Tick Tock
by Lionfire42
Summary: M.E.C.H has something big planned for both the Autobots and the world. And Silas is not above killing anyone who stands in his way
1. Chapter 1

The message had been simple and precise. A single text to Miko's phone: _Does Arcee know where her human is?_

Optimus contacted Arcee on patrol, and she took a quick stop at the KO. Moments later, her voice came back panicked. Jack wasn't at the counter, or the window, or outside on break and now after five minutes she hadn't seen him and had sent in her hologram to talk to the manager, who was mad that Jack had apparently never shown and now Arcee had no clue as to where the Allspark he _was_.

Oh, and Jack was fired.

The response was immediate. Ratchet immediately tracked Jack's phone to a small abandoned region of Jasper, and after a quick bridge-in for Arcee, the Autobots and their respective humans went on the hunt for Jack.

Arcee immediately took off upon arrival, heading straight for the middle of town. The others searched the surrounding buildings, searching the larger buildings first and headed gradually towards Arcee's position.

It was Raf who found the tape first. It hung on a length of rope outside an abandoned house with a rusted metal door. He quickly contacted Bumblebee, who contacted the rest of the team. They converged on Raf's location, apprehension rising in the pits of their tanks and stomachs. With a nod from Optimus, Raf pressed the play button on the small recorder.

"Hello, Autobots."

"Silas," snarled Arcee. The others except Optimus shushed her.

"I trust that you are good health. I do not want my robots to have rusted joints as I dissect them."

No one spoke, all captivated by the feelings of growing horror.

"Now originally I only meant to find a way to understand you more, but mister Darby wasn't waking up quickly enough, and I regret that Arachnid's somewhat impatient behavior has rubbed off on me. So I decided to play a little game.

"The rules go like this: if I don't get a transformer by midnight tonight, I will have no qualms about beginning the inevitable demise of innocents around the globe. After all, it isn't really that hard once you have your hands on an experimental human made transformer-destroyer created by various scientists around the globe."

"Monster," hissed Bulkhead.

"Believe me, my Transforming friends, when I say that I will lose no sleep over what will happen if I don't get what I want. I'm not an unreasonable man. In fact as a show of…good faith, I have a little present for Arcee inside of the house. I felt she may want her human back, though he is a little worse for the wear. I do hope you receive this message soon. Mister Darby's survival may well depend on it."

With a click the recorder stopped. At the same time a click was heard on the rusty door, and it swung open. The smell that came rushing out was overwhelming. It smelled of dust and dirt and mildew and blood and something else that Miko and Raf (the only ones with noses) couldn't identify.

Arcee tried to go forth, only to realize that the door was much too small for her, despite her being the shortest bot there. With an almost desperate snarl, she looked helplessly at Miko and Raf. They both understood immediately and stepped forward, disappearing in the house. There was silence for a few moments before the sound of retching reached the bots audio receptors. Another few moments of silence, and then Miko stepped out looking absolutely sick.

"Is he…?"

"He's alive," croaked Miko. "But…tell Ratchet to get the med bay ready. Silas was right. He's bad. Real bad.

**Hello people! I'm LIonfire42, and this is my first Transformers Prime fic. Now because of school my updates will be slow until maybe winter break. I plan on dropping in another chapter for the holidays. Please Review! Feedback helps me feel inspired!**


	2. Chapter 2

Four broken ribs, a broken arm, electric burns, and a very nasty wound on the side of Jack's head made up the relatively dangerous wounds afflicted upon the sixteen year old. At least according to Ratchet they were only relatively fatal, which considering the Autobot medic's limited knowledge on human anatomy, did little to ease the others.

Then there was the non-fatal wounds, which mainly comprised of numerous bruises which turned Jack's back, chest, and limbs a kaleidoscope of sickly yellow, blue and purple splotches.

There was another wound, one so obvious that it didn't even need a scan. It was this wound which had caused Miko and Raf no end of panic. It nearly made Arcee go hunting for M.E.C.H so she could rip Silas limb from limb. The only reason she didn't was because she had refused to let go of Jack after the children had managed to drag him from the house.

June had been informed and had bridged in to help the knowledge prohibited medic. June had wanted Jack to go to a hospital, but as Agent Fowler stated, "Jack's wound would raise too many questions. Besides if, I mean when," Fowler amended seeing Arcee's and June's expressions. "He wakes up, we'll need all the info that we can get about what M.E.C.H is planning."

Fowler had ended up bringing in an army doctor who much to his credit, managed to tape up Jack's ribs, set his arm, and put salve on his burns(including the major wound) all without losing focus. Not an easy thing to do while there are two giant robots (one continually asking questions about the doctors techniques), an anxious mother, and two children (one, a female, who wanted to know if he could win a swordfight with a scalpel) hovering practically over your shoulder.

Fowler and Optimus were in deep discussion about the situation. And to say Fowler wasn't happy was a bit of an understatement.

"Can't you guys just deactivate some 'Con goon and give it to these terrorists?"

"Agent Fowler," rumbled Optimus. "You know as well as I do the consequences of giving Cybertronian technology to regular humans would be terrible enough. Giving that kind of technology to M.E.C.H would be catastrophic."

The agent let out a frustrated noise. "I know, I know. But we're stuck between rock and a hard place, Prime. The government wants to respect your "We won't share" policy. But there are lives at stake here. If M.E.C.H is right, then somehow they've managed to get their hands on something that could hurt you guys. And if whatever it is can hurt _you_, released upon a human population…"

Optimus finished for him. "It may well harm many innocent humans. But what is this device, Agent Fowler?"

"That's just the thing, Prime. I don't know. Whatever it is though, it's super-secret. Apparently they're sending someone to brief you about it." A shadow crossed Fowler's face. "I do know one thing though. Whatever they created is dangerous as hell. And now that M.E.C.H has it they're going to do a lot worse to others than what they did to Darby."

Both the agent and the Autobot leader looked over to the med bay, where the doctor had just left and Arcee and June were sitting around Jack's bedside. As the two watched, June gently lifted her hand and stroked the prominent wound that inflicted Jack's chest. Despite the salve that covered it, the massive burn and its shape were evident.

The burn, obviously created by some sort of hot prongs, was in the shape of a large M.

**Really should be in bed, but I wanted to update this really bad. Thanks to all who reviewed, you have no idea what it means to me. Since no one will see this till tomorrow, Happy Season 2 day to all you lucky Prime fans in Canada! And have a Happy Scouring-YouTube-In-Hopes-That-Someone-From Canada-Put-It-Up day to every one else!**


	3. Chapter 3

A beeping sound broke the melochly silence that penatrated the silo. Rachet turned to the moniter, and afte a brief typing storm, turned to Optimus and said, "Helicopter approching."

"Must be the breifer," grunted Fowler.

"I belive so," said Rachet. "The markings indicate milatary."

Optimus nodded and turned to his team. "Autobots. Let us stand to attention for our guest."

Every one but Arcee complied standing forward at attention. Miko and Raf hurried up to stand by Fowler. There was silence for a moment before Optimus said gently, "Arcee."

Arceelooked up from her partner,something she had not done in almost three quarters of an hour. Her optics had a far away look in them, and it took a moment for her to focus on her leader.

"Arcee," said Optimus softly. "If you want to truly help Jack, then we will need your full ablities to stop M.E.C.H. Other innocents will need our help, and I know if Jack were able, he would do his best to insure that M.E.C.H. never succeeds."

Arcee glanced down at her charge and then at his mother. June nodded, giving a small smile. Arcee nodded back to her before walking over and standing at attention. No sooner had she done so than the elevator door hissed open.

Out stepped two people. The first was tall and well muscled. He had black hair that glittered with grease and eyes that looked like polished gray stones. His stature and walk indicated his military training despite the dark suit he wore. Nothing, however could mask the slight swagger of his step nor the slighly obnoxious quirk of his mouth.

The second was the first's almost complete opposite. Small and thin, the man looked nervously around, his black eyes huge in the thick glasses he wore. His face was full of worry lines, and his back was slighly stooped from what many suspected to be constant pacing. His white lab coat signified his position as a scientist, though it was more of a beige color from what seemed like ingrained dirt and fingerprints of coffee.

There was a brief silence as the Autobots and their humans surveyed the newcomers. Then Optimus stepped forward and began, "Welcome. I am Op-"

"I know who you are," interrupted the first man. "I am General Shanchez. We only have about eight hours till a neuclear bomb is set off, so lsten close aliens."

Ignoring the stares of disbelief, he turned to Fowler and handed him a flash drive. "Plug this in."

Fowler opened his mouth to argue, but then glanced at Optimus. The Autobot leader's mouth was covered by his guard, but his optics were slightly narrowed at the rude man that had dared insult him in his own home. Hoping to diffuse the situation, Fowler decided that it was probably best to follow his orders without any lip for once.

Turning and walking down the stairs to Raf's computer, Fowler risked a glance back at the odd group of bots and Humans. All were standing rim-rod straight in uncomfortable silence. Fowler shook his head. If they were going to stop this threat, it would not be without a lot of difficuties.

**Okay. Well needless to say I was beyond disgusted at this chapter, both because of content and length. Sorry for all the mistakes; my Word autocorrect isn't working for this document. But I promise to do better for the holidays. It's my gift to you.**

**To Foxbear: Yeah I noticed that People like to hurt Jack a lot in these stories. My guess is that people see Jack as a sort of logical Wolverine: It takes lot to kill him, and what doesn't only makes him stronger (or pissed as hell,depending on one's veiw). Whatsmore he always keeps a cool head, kind of the polar opposite of his Guardian.**


	4. Chapter 4

Once the files had been downloaded into the Autobot's super-computer, General Sanchez began his briefing.

"I'm not going to lie to you _aliens_ about the beginnings of this weapon," Sanchez began. "The nature of the weapon occurred when the government began to juggle around the idea of your deaths. We called it Operation Armageddon."

On the screen, a computer generated video began. It had several legions of Vechicons marching in perfect formation through a populated city.

"The CIA began to formulate a plan of action. It was the worst-case scenario. The only way we could hope to win, should you fall, was if we managed one enormous, or several large concentrated against the heads of the Decepticon army. Thus, the E –bomb was born."

Sanchez turned to the scientist behind him who was still in awe of the Autobots. "Rodgers!"

The scientist, Rodgers, jumped. "What? Oh, yes. Yes!" He straightened, and taking a remote from Sanchez, took over the briefing.

"In the creation of the E-bomb, we took the knowledge gained from study of your kind and utilized it in the hopeful destruction of Decepticons. Namely, the use of en-"

"And Autobots," interrupted Ratchet.

Rodgers' Adam's apple bobbed in his thin throat. "Wha-what?"

"I am more than willing," said Ratchet in a dark tone. "To believe that in the event that we did defeat the Decepticons and end the war, that this…E-bomb, would be doing more than just sitting in some dark warehouse. Why, I bet my spark that less than five minutes after the war, that bomb would be falling straight on our-"

"Ratchet." Optimus interrupted firmly. He nodded at Rodgers curtly. "Continue."

Rodgers' throat bobbed up and down for several moments as he struggled to maintain his composure. With more effort than it seemed his small frame could contain, Rodgers managed to not cower in a ball and instead continued.

"Ah, y-yes, of course. The, eh, E-bomb was created using knowledge gained about your fuel, the substance known as energon."

On the screen, a chunk of 3-D energon floated around.

"From our studies of energon, we were able to replicate the process used in the development of liquid energon, which was then-"

Bulkhead interrupted. "How the frag did you fleshies get your hands on enough energon to do what you're saying this bomb will do?"

Sanchez stepped forward then, and shot Bulkhead an oily smirk. "Why, we mined it, of course."

Ratchet scowled. "Of all the insults, this is a great one! How dare you-"

Rodgers puffed out his chest indignantly. "Now wait a minute! This was energon mined from our soil, our land, our _planet_!"

Arcee joined in. "The planet that is under _our_ protection! It is _our_ life blood, _our_ food-"

"AND THIS IS _OUR_ HOME!" roared Sanchez.

Before any of the Bots could reply, a weak voice spoke out.

"It's their home too."

Everyone turned to the medical bay where a dark-haired teenager was struggling to prop himself up.

Jack Darby had awoken.


	5. Chapter 5

"Jack!" Arcee cried out, hurrying over to help June keep him in bed.

Sanchez hurried past Fowler and the children, and, ignoring the Autobots, came up to Jack, June, and Arcee and pulled out an important-looking badge. "Mr. Darby? I'm-"

"I know who are." Jack interrupted. "You spent nearly thirty seconds drawling out your name. Nearly made me go back to sleep." He cracked a smile. "There's still a chance your breath will do the job."

Sanchez flushed as everyone else, even Rodgers, snickered. "You little-"

"What? Kid who got freaking tortured?"

No one was laughing now.

"The kid who was burned? And electrocuted? Who screamed for mercy?" Jack's eyes burned feverishly. Sweat started to drip from his brow as his breath increased, his mind obviously trapped in memories that burned into his mind. "The kid who almost got a race killed?" Jack's mouth twisted into a disgusted snarl.

Sanchez was oblivious to Jack's torment. "Look kid, I hate to break your daily teenage angst fest, but some of us have a job to do, namely preventing a disaster. So-"

"Excuse me?" interjected Miko. "Teenage angst? You're looking at people who outgrew that when they met a group of space robots! And how would you know? When were you a teenager, the 1950s?"

"Shut up, you stupid little immigrant!" Sanchez's cool was completely evaporated.

Bulkhead let out a snarl and lurched forward to run Sanchez over. He might have done so if Jack hadn't shaken out of trance and cried out. "Everybody stop!"

Something in his voice demanded attention, respect. Whatever it was caused everybody to pay attention to the young man.

Jack looked at his mother with silent request. Hesitantly, she stopped her efforts to hold him down.

Jack slowly pulled himself to his feet, waving away Arcee's attempt to help. With shaky determined steps he walked forward into the middle of the silo.

"Since the CIA wants me to give my report," he said shooting Sanchez an almost sadistic glare. "I'll begin by telling what I heard when Silas thought I was asleep. They had obtained some files about the Autobots, and the info they contained sounded…_interesting_ to say the least."

The blood in General Sanchez's face drained of color. "By United States law, you are hereby authorized to stay silent."

"If you would like me to stay silent, then I suggest that maybe you brief the Autobots as you're supposed to do." Jack glared at Bulkhead and Ratchet. "And I also suggest that the ones being briefed allow you to do so."

Jack looked up to where Rodgers was still standing by the elevator next to Fowler, Miko, and Raf. "Rodgers, isn't it? Continue." Jack's voice was dismissive, cold, and somewhat frightening.

Sanchez snarled. "Don't listen to the kid."

"_Continue_."

Rodgers struggled internally for a second. Then, avoiding Sanchez's furious eyes gripped the remote tighter and muttered an almost inaudible response to Jack's command. "Yes…sir."

**Okay! Thank you for reading chapter five, also known as CRAP. What happening is my friend who is like an English expert said that I should do chapters in short intervals like I am currently doing. Personally, I like short chapters like these because when I write, I write as if I am watching a movie. Therefore, each chapter is like a different scene. Alone it seems weird, but together it fits in a weird, strange way. However a downside to this method is that when I'm writing it, I feel like the flow is off. Some scenes, such as when Jack wakes up seems like it is too abrupt, whereas others, such as the bomb briefing and continuous squabbling feels too slow. But anyway, I like this method better, so please don't hate how short each chapter is. It's just my style. **


	6. Chapter 6

Rodgers began his third attempt to inform the Autobots on this new threat. "As I was saying," he said. "The bomb was developed by using a power source so amazing, it nearly blew our minds. Literally."

The scientist's voice grew more and more excitable. "From what we have observed from Mr. Prime and his soldiers, they use energon for one thing and one thing only: life. Everything has a flip-side, thus what gives life must give death."

Ratchet started to speak, but fell silent at Jack's piercing glare.

"In 1939, two scientists began the development on an atomic bomb based on the idea that the power inside an atom was the greatest power of all. The philosophy then as is now: What gives life-"

"Must give death," June muttered.

Rodgers nodded. "Exactly. Atoms make up everything in the universe. However, there are differentiations. For example, the atoms in a diamond are much stronger than the atoms that make up human skin. Thus, there are differences in atoms. Using this knowledge and philosophy, we attempted something never done before: _we split an energon atom_."

"Preposterous!" Ratchet could no longer keep silent. "That could not be done by _humans_, not in ten years, not in a hundred!"

"And that, doctor, is precisely why Autobots have yet to truly understand how humans work," sneered Sanchez. "Since our heads and bodies are not covered in metal armor day and night, we have to learn to adapt. And as we adapt, we grow creative. We may be bugs beneath your feet, but on _our_ planet, termites can fell trees, and viruses can destroy villages."

"Anyway," said Rodgers, hoping to diffuse what was looking like the beginnings of another argument. "We split the atom of energon after realizing the amount of power that energon contained. But we were faced with a problem: how to store the atoms.

On the screen the shard of energon that was still revolving topped and the camera zoomed into it until millions of virtual atoms could be seen.

"After billions in research, we discovered that each of the atoms contained electrons normally found in the atomic orbital field around one of the rarest minerals of all: adamantium."

"Adamantium?" echoed Miko. "As in Wolverine adamantium? Awesome!"

Raf pushed up his glasses. "But adamantium isn't real. It's just some metal created by a comic book company."

"Every story has a grain of truth in it," said Jack quietly. Somehow the boy had managed to get back to his bed and lay down without anybody noticing. Though he looked drained and his face was pained, his dark eyes hadn't left Rodgers, or Sanchez for that matter, once. "If there was some super-metal that was virtually indestructible, do you think that the government would let it come out? There would be a World War III over something like that."

"Right," said Rodgers, somewhat uneasily. Something about this boy was dark and dangerous. Perhaps Darby hadn't always been this way, though. Rodgers had a feeling this attitude had been sprouted through the seeds of M.E.C.H's torture. What had they done to the kid?

Rodgers wasn't the only one who could see the difference in Jack. June could of course see how fractured her son's emotions and psych was, and it brought tears to her eyes. And Arcee was startled and a bit terrified for Jack and _of_ Jack's new and domineering assertiveness. She didn't know how to handle this; neither did she know if it _could_ be handled.

"Adamantum," Rodgers continued, ignoring Jack purposefully now. "Is the hardest metal known to man. However, it is still metal, thus it is still susceptible to a magnetic field. Therefore, the answer was simple: we took extremely powerful permanent magnets and warped their positions until we were able to contain and isolate two single energon atoms within their fields. Then we placed them into an adamantium cylinder and placed several magnets within it in order to allow the separate field to surround and continually move the atoms.

"Thus the bomb works as such: when taken from the electric stand a 24 hour a timer starts up, generally as a precaution to a power failure. However, we never got around to creating a failsafe for an event such as this…" Rodgers trailed off, and then continued. "The problem is that as the electromagnet weakens over time and thus fails completely. And the energon atoms that have been bouncing around then collide at an incredible speed."

"Resulting in an atomic energon explosion." Ratchet whispered.

"And if M.E.C.H has it…" trailed Arcee.

"Then we are almost, most certainly screwed," finished Fowler.

**Yeah, most of this was completely bull when it came to science. Props to anyone who can figure out where the atomic cylinder reference came from. And no, this isn't a Marvel crossover. I just used that metal to accent how top secret this entire operation is.**


	7. Chapter 7

It was Miko who broke the silence. "Well, what are we waiting for then? Let's go get this thing!"

Rodgers let out a quiet, almost embarrassed cough. "That's just the thing. We don't know where it is. We don't even know how MECH got their hands on it."

"That's why we need your special energon deposit locater," said Sanchez, his previous irritation now gone. "And once it's located, we need you bots to shut it down."

"Wait a minute." Everyone turned to June, who had been quiet the entire briefing. "How come the Autobots need to shut it down? From your description it's a human sized object. Why can't you just bridge in a group of bomb specialists?"

Rodgers started to speak, but Sanchez beat him to the punch. "If I may, Ms. Darby? The bomb is unlike anything the world has ever seen. Not even the top bomb squad in the world could shut it down, simply because once activated it cannot be shut down. It must be detonated." Sanchez thought he looked serious but brave in the eyes of the beautiful Ms. Darby. June thought Sanchez looked like a tuba player that really had to go to the bathroom. A jealous William Fowler venomously thought Sanchez looked like a complete idiot and wanted nothing better than to wipe the smile tugging at the edges of the general's lips right off. And an equally jealous Ratchet glared and both the agent and the general with equal dislike, and briefly entertained the notion of tossing his wrench in the air and "accidentally" dropping it on both of their heads before he mentally berated himself and returned his full attention to the briefing.

June seemed to realize the sudden attention brought upon her by Sanchez, and coolly stated, "I see." With that she returned her attention to her son and released two men and a bot from her impossible-to-ignore hold.

Optimus spoke. "Could an energon amount that minuscule be detected?" he asked Ratchet.

Ratchet grunted. "Not likely. The scanner has enough problems detecting small energon caches, let alone a couple of energon atoms."

"You said not likely," pointed out Rodgers. "That's not an absolute no."

"Well…" Ratchet thought for a moment. "Perhaps. Maybe. If I were to fine-tune the scanner to maximum…" He walked over to the computer and opened a new window before launching a satellite scan. "If I had better equipment, I could possibly search for the device through energon tracing. However, though I can't do that, I can search for small warped magnetic field readings in the closest populated city."

After a moment, the computer beeped. "We have five. Two seem to be test faculties in a smaller city. That leaves three others in the city known as Las Vegas."

There was silence. And then- "Vegas? Really?" Miko said, her eyebrows raised.

"Ah, I remember Vegas," said Rodgers fondly. "Every man's dream world."

"That makes sense, actually." Raf remarked. "Thousands visit Vegas every year. And this is the summer time, so even more are there than usual. MECH sets off a bomb there-"

"And loads of people will be killed," Jack finished grimly.

"Then our objective is clear." Optimus turned to his troops. "Autobots, we must be prepared to do all we can to prevent this catastrophe." He turned to Sanchez. "How much time do we have, General?"

Sanchez checked a stopwatch. "Six hours, forty-seven minutes and seventeen seconds and counting."

"Bulkhead, take Miko," Optimus ordered. "She can help guide you through the populated sector. Take the general also. Should the worse happen, the humans will need heavy-duty protection."

"Sweet!" crowed Miko. Sanchez simply grunted.

"Bumblebee, you shall take Mr. Rodgers and scout out the second closest signal from or bridge point."

Bumblebee whirred and Optimus answered. "Though you are quite fast, Bumblebee, I fear your coloring, as well as the make of your alternative mode will attract unwanted attention."

Optimus turned to Arcee. "Arcee, you are will check the last signal."

"I'm coming too." Jack's voice left no room for argument and it was an unspoken agreement among everyone else not to give him one.

Optimus simply nodded. "Ratchet, fire up the Ground bridge. Autobots, it's time to roll out."

Rodgers grinned, despite the dire circumstances. "Ladies and gentlemen, we are headed to Vegas, the land of night-time fun."

**Okay! I know I promised you guys a holiday chapter. Three things:**

**My holidays haven't ended until I go back to school.**

**I seem to write worse when I'm out of school. This chapter is the third rewrite.**

**I would rather give you guys pretty good material late than give you bad material on time, or worse, at all. **

**Happy New Year to all! Here's hoping the Mayans weren't right!**


	8. Chapter 8

A lone man prowled streets of the streets of Las Vegas, searching the shadiest areas for an unfortunate victim who was a little too drunk. He was a man who many would call a bum, a thief. To himself he was a mere man that was down in his luck. But unfortunately, that excuse was not often met with the sympathetic smiles of cops.

As the man passed an alley, his eyes did the regular sweep of a citizen from a large city: the average search for a speeding car, robber with a weapon, or a dead body. He didn't see the first two, but the man stopped upon seeing something that looked suspiciously like the third.

Heart pounding, the thief crept up to the still form leaning against the wall of the dimly-lit alley. It appeared to be a fellow bum- unfortunate fellow, the man corrected himself- that had drunk far too much, if the bottles on the side told a correct story. Exactly what the thief was looking for. Eagerly, the thief began to search the drunk's tattered coat and grimly jeans pockets.

Suddenly, a brilliant light exploded from the dead end wall at end the murky alley, blinding the thief. To his surprise and fear, the light became a vortex, and out of vortex came a motorcycle in a blaze of blue and pink that appeared almost golden in the halo. Upon the bike was a lone figure covered in black. Due to the light, it looked as if his head was shrouded in flames. Thus, the thief leapt to the most obvious conclusion to this unexpected event.

"The Ghost Rider," the man breathed, his voice cracking in horror. The Ghost Rider was a spirit of Vengeance, and here he was robbing a drunk. Terrified, the man threw the drunk's near depleted wallet to the Rider and sprinted away screaming, "I'm sorry! Please don't burn my soul!"

The thief's departure caused successfully robbed him of the sight of a large, green, heavy-duty SUV and a black and yellow Camaro driving through the portal and coming to a halt behind the motorcycle.

"What was that about?" the motorcycle Arcee asked her rider as the ground bridge closed behind them.

"No idea," responded the dull voice of Jack. Inwardly, Arcee shuddered. Her partner was usually quiet at the best of times, but this…was disturbing. She was against Jack coming with them in the first place, but Optimus had approved…she respected her leader, but to be honest, since when had a nearly emotionless Prime truly paid attention to the mannerisms and emotions of human children, particularly their charges? Jack sounded like, well, like a robot. He sounded like man past his years. Primus, he sounded like her after the death of her other two partners.

"What's the plan?" asked Bulkhead, breaking Arcee out of her uneasy musing.

Ratchet's voice came over their comm systems. "I've uploaded each of your destinations into your navigational systems. Whoever finds the canister will contact me so I can bridge into their location and develop a solution upon examination."

"Let's get going then," Sanchez said gruffly.

"Autobots, roll out," Optimus's voice came over the comm. "And good luck."

xxxxxxx

Arcee rode through the streets of Vegas, the silence of her partner making her uncharacteristically nervous. The guilt weighing on her CPU and the bright lights of Vegas wasn't helping.

She was beginning to really dislike Vegas. Having been in Jasper for so long, she was used to long stretches of road with clean blacktop that cast the nice heat directly onto her frame. But here, they were stuck in a traffic jam, people drove shiny cars that reflected the artificial light painfully into her headlights, and cursed each other in loud voices. And what were these humans feeding their vehicles, charcoal? There was a load of icky gray dust on her spokes, and the road was full of potholes.

"Don't these people realize there may be someone trying to save their lives?" Jack growled as Arcee took a shortcut between two cars to a chorus of horns.

Arcee hesitated on her question, but realizing it had to be done, asked anyway. "Jack? Do you want to talk?"

"No," Jack replied curtly.

Arcee recognized the tone from the Jack's rare moments of teenage angst. "But you need to talk."

Jack was silent.

Arcee sighed. 'I know what it's like, Jack. I know what it's like to be hurt by others for information, for _fun_. And I know how painful it is when you bottle it up." Her voice softened. "You're my partner, Jack. I'm here for you. Always."

"I know." Jack's voice was barely above a whisper. He stroked her Autobot symbol. "I'm broken." His hands tightened on her handlebars. His voice took on a darker tone. "I won't be fixed until the one who broke me dies."

Before Arcee could respond, they emerged from traffic and arrived outside of their destination.

For a moment, they both stared at it.

Jack said, "You're joking me."

A smartly dressed man in a uniform came up to them. "Welcome to the Luxor Casino, sir."

**Hey I'm back! Again! Please review!**


	9. Chapter 9

The warehouses loomed above Bulkhead and company as they rode silently through the darker, less populated area of Las Vegas. The sky was darker here, as there weren't as many dazzling lights that covered the night. Bulkhead personally missed the starry skies of Jasper. He had gotten hooked on it after a night patrol with Jack and Arcee and when he wasn't rocking out to Miko's guitar or dune bashing or watching monster truck shows he made it a habit to climb to the top of the silo and revel in the natural lights and the wonderful, golden silence.

"Bulkhead, do you copy?"

"I hear you doc-bot," Bulkhead replied as he turned down a quiet half-lit street that was littered with trash. This was a part that the tourists of the town rarely saw. "What's up?"

"You should be approaching the magnetic disruption within the next three minutes. Once you recover the device, I will bridge in to examine it. I have already contacted Arcee, and she and Jack are close to retrieving their cylinder."

"Then we better catch up," Miko piped up cheerfully. "Wouldn't want to fall behind!"

"Of course not," came Ratchet's dry reply before he cut the link.

Xxxxxxxxxxx

Bulkhead stopped behind a warehouse just behind another building where the cylinder was supposedly located. He transformed and carefully set down his charge and the general. "Stay here while I check it out."

Sanchez grunted. "Like hell. I have a duty to preform and I am not going some gargantuan _alien_ saying otherwise."

Bulkhead hadn't forgotten the immigrant comment that had been directed at Miko, and made sure that Sanchez knew it.

"Maybe the gargantuan alien should jut crush you and take chances with his leader's wrath, _fleshie_."

Sanchez smiled tightly. "I'd love to see you try. Then I'd have an excuse to throw an EMP gre-" He stopped short. "Just hurry up."

Bulkhead's eyebrows narrowed, but he just nodded. Turning to Miko, he issued his usual warning. "Miko, stay here. I mean it this time." Miko simply pouted in response.

Transforming his right servo into a blaster, Bulkhead crept forward towards the building. Well, at least he tried to creep. To another it looked like an upright tortoise trying to reach its toes with one hand. To make matters worse, Bulkhead's processor began replaying the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles theme song, which in turn caused bulkhead to unconsciously begin singing under his breath. As he'd told Arcee, green was good. Green was inspiring. Green kicked aft. Arcee responded with a reminder that he wouldn't have much green left if he continued to plunge himself into scraping, hot sand dunes.

Bulkhead shook himself. He should be concentrating, not thinking about the dark blue femme. True, blue was the color of his arch nemesis, but on Arcee it looked very good…

Scrap, he had it bad.

Almost thankfully, Bulkhead reached the outer-wall of the building. The inside was silent and dark, and unfortunately, Bulkhead didn't have the thermal optic capability of Arachnid. It looked like he would be doing this the old fashioned way.

His CPU automatically began going through battle plans and ideas. This went on for less than ten seconds, simply because he wasn't exactly known for his strategist capabilities.

"Scrap this," he muttered, and charged forward into the wall.

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

"How are you today sir?" the valet said politely.

Jack swung himself off of Arcee in a fluid motion, hiding the painful cracking of his burnt chest that was hidden under his jacket with a slight cough. "I'm doing fine, thank you," he replied simultaneously hoping that voice was deep enough to pass as a short adult and ignoring Arcee's subtle twitch at his words. He gestured at the cyclebot and said, "Park her close. I won't be long."

The valet chuckled. "No one stays in a casino for a short time, sir."

Jack walked away to the entrance. "I'll be the first to do so then."

The valet shook his head as he mounted the motorcycle. "Good luck," he said, though Jack had already entered the casino. The valet settled back on the young man's exquisite bike and attempted to start it. The problem was, the bike wasn't starting. Frowning, the valet tried again to no avail. Removing himself from the seat, the valet tried to wheel it away. The bike didn't budge, even though the kickstand was up. It was as if the wheels had locked up.

The valet had been parking cars for five years without fail, and he wasn't going to let some oversized bike beat his record. Glaring at the navy two-wheeler, the valet cracked his knuckles. "That's how you want to play it? Bring it."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jack weaved between patrons, employees, and waitresses as he followed the signal through the spacious Luxor Casino. Ignoring the pain in his body, and ignoring the looks his cast attracted, Jack doggedly followed the signal to a point of ten feet. There the scanner began a low beeping.

Jack looked up just as the two dark suited men looked up and saw him. They all locked eyes before Jack's attention was drawn to the suitcase sitting on a chair next to the pair.

On a silent agreement, Jack turned a walking rapidly towards the nearest restroom. At the same time the two men stood up. One, a tall man with a gear tattoo grabbed the suitcase and both began to walk after the teen at a steady pace. The other man, a shorter person with large hands, made sure that the bulge in his suit was not visible.

Jack reached into his pocket with his good hand and slipped his trusty pocketknife into his sleeve. His face was determined and cold. As he entered the washroom he whispered, "Bring it."


	10. Chapter 10

**5 hours until detonation**

The two MECH agents walked into the large spacious bathroom. Right in front of them was their target: a teenage boy, with jet black hair and a cast standing with his back to them at the sink.

Large Hand nudged Tattoo and started forward. "You know you can't win, Darby," Large Hand called. "Give up yourself and your bike. Silas want to speak to you."

There was no response save the sound of running water at the sink. Large Hands frowned. The kid was washing his hands…with a cast? Something hard like a knot formed in the brute's stomach. Something was wrong.

When the two were only a few feet away, the teen turned suddenly. His good arm whipped back and forth in a sudden movement. His partner cried out and fell back, his hand over his now bleeding eye.

Large Hands made the mistake of turning to follow his partner's descent before turning back around at the sound of water hitting the floor. Darby slid on the now slick floor and plowed into his legs. Large Hands fell heavily to the floor, disoriented by the sudden shift in position.

Blinking his eyes open and forcing himself to focus, the goon was met with the sight of black object swinging towards his head and the feeling, or lack of, a weight in his jacket. _My gun, was_ his last thought before stars exploded in his head.

Jack Darby casually checked the ammo in his borrowed weapon. There was a single cylindrical object in the chamber. A tranquilizer.

Tattoo had finally recovered from Jack's throw. The knife hadn't punctured anything vital. The blade had only scratched the man's eyelid and the handle _thunked_ into his forehead. Little blood had actually been drawn and the man's panic had contributed to his fall more than anything else.

The man took in the sight of his friend unconscious on the floor incredulously. "Matt?" he managed to get out before something stung him in the neck. Instantly his eyesight began to blur and his limbs went limp. With a feline-like moan, he fell back on the floor and didn't move.

Jack glanced up the small obscure camera on the far wall. It was new and obviously high tech. seizing Large Hand's radio, he pressed the small button on the side. "Hope you enjoyed the show."

"But of course," came the voice that Jack knew only so well. "You're good. A bit rusty, but good for one who's never trained. Good instincts. If the circumstances were different, I would consider training you myself."

"I'm going to kill you," Jack stated, as if it were perfectly normal. "And this time I won't let anything

stand in my way. Not morals, not Optimus."

The only response was a chuckle before the link was cut.

Jack shook his head before turning his attention the suitcase. He knew even before he opened it that it was a fake. The signal had stopped beeping. And when he opened the suitcase, his suspicions were confirmed. The cylinder wasn't working or moving at all. Sighing, Jack stood up and, retrieving his knife, left to return to his partner. He ignored his now aching arm and the after effects of adrenaline that made him shake. The hunt wasn't over.

**Sorry for the shortness of this chapter. I have finals this week and wanted to get it uploaded before I abandon you guys for another week. I tried to manage the fight scene to the point here it would be possible for a determined sixteen year old to execute against couple of idiots. And for Bulkhead fans, if you were expecting his fight scene, I'm sorry to disappoint. He will come back next chapter. **


	11. Chapter 11

**4 hours and 51 minutes until detonation:**

The valet's struggles had attracted the attention of his fellow employees.

"What in the blazes of Pompeii are you doing, Drake?" asked one, a tall skinny man with a somewhat naturally nervous demeanor.

"Isn't it obvious?" smirked a second with light brown hair. "He's weight lifting so he can get some muscle in his bones. Trying to impress Trish?"

"You can't get muscle in bones, idiot," snarled Drake as he strained to push the strange man's mysterious, and now seriously annoying bike. It was if the bike was alive, or something, and purposefully trying to prevent him from doing his job.

"Excuse me," came a quiet voice. Drake turned to snap at the newcomer but pulled up short upon seeing who it was.

"Ah, sir. I, um, was just…" Drake floundered for moment as he tried to explain to a customer why his vehicle was still in the exact same area when his service promised immediate parking and retrieval.

The man didn't wait for his excuses. He swung his leg up and over the seat of the bike, and sat back gripping the handlebars with a suitcase tucked under his arm. To Drake's almost disbelieving eyes, he kicked back the stand and rode away in a cloud of grit and dust, most of which managed to get into poor Drake's eyes.

As he wiped his eyes to the sound of his friend's laughter, Drake angrily muttered, "I hate this job."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"What happened in there?" demanded Arcee, as they raced along the highway.

Jack ignored her. "Ratchet, the bomb was a dud. I'm connecting you to a frequency. Can you track it?"

"I can triangulate the frequency within an approximate one point five mile radius."

"So you can track it."

"If you want to simplify things to that point, then yes."

"Will anyone tell me how either of you are doing this?" yelled Arcee.

"Borrowed a MECH comm from a grunt," her partner responded innocently.

There was silence before Arcee very calmly asked the inevitable question. "How?"

"We fought, I won," Jack responded shortly. "Ratchet?"

"Hold on the horsepower, already. This is a heavily encrypted code." Ratchet sounded almost…disturbed. "Give me a minute."

In her rear mirrors, Arcee spotted two vans pull out of a side street and begin following them.

While this ordinarily wouldn't alarm her, despite her naturally suspicious attitude, this was hardly an ordinary mission. And there generally weren't heavy duty unmarked green-and-black vans in Las Vegas, at least from what she could tell from her observation of this town.

"We've got MECH on our tailpipes. I'm taking evasive action."

"Damn it," swore Ratchet suddenly. "My firewalls are under attack! Someone's backtracked my tracer!"

"MECH's certainly has their bases covered," Jack remarked mildly. "But life's a baseball game." He pulled the suitcase from under his arm, and cradling it on his cast, popped it open and removed the dud bomb. "You can put three guys on all the bases and put a forth on bat. But that doesn't mean you'll get four more points."

With a heave of his good arm, Jack sent the heavy cylinder spinning end over end into the Vegas night air. The cylinder flew a good fifteen feet in the air, and seemed to float there, as if waiting. Then, it succumbed to gravity and tumbled straight down to land with a splintering sound on one of the MECH cars, successfully reducing the windshield into a mess of shattered splinters.

The MECH agents, now successfully blinded, swerved violently. Jack and Arcee caught a glimpse of a MECH grunt attempting to break through the windshield before the car swerved into oncoming traffic.

Horns blared. People yelled and cursed. The MECH car driver managed to break the windshield in time to avoid an oncoming horse carriage and crash into a wooden pole.

For a moment the partners were silent. Then Arcee broke the silence with, "I bet that doesn't happen every day."

Jack snorted. "This is Las Vegas, Arcee. Those kind of figures are never accurate in this world."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Bulkhead tore through the warehouse, sending dust, splinters and termites fling through the air.

"Come to papa, fleshies," he crowed. "I'm going to make it harder to dissect me than Breakdown."

The lights came on quite suddenly. Bulkhead was blinded by the sudden illumination and his wrecking balls became servos again as he tried too late to shield his optics.

The _tap-tap_ sound of heavy shoes reached his audio receptors. "Why, hello. Bulkhead, isn't it?"

"You!" the green mech growled as his optics adjusted, for it was of course Silas.

"Me," the terrorist replied smugly. "But of course there is also my henchmen," he said gesturing to the dozen or so masked men in black armor. "As well as another…friend of mine. I assume you have met General Sanchez?"  
>Bulkhead turned as a small device rolled in between his legs. He yelled in pain as the EMP grenade exploded, it's debilitating electricity seeking out the nearest mechanical device, also known as <strong>him<strong>.

Bulkhead fell, old, wet, and moldy cement cracking and crumbling under the weight of his frame.

"You little fr-fragger," he choked painfully, struggling to focus his failing sight on the traitorous general.

"I don't generally stoop this low," said Sanchez calmly. "But the president refuses to see what is right in front of her. She refuses to understand that you lot are simply too dangerous to allow on U.S. soil, and too dangerous to become our enemies. Therefore, in order to reshape America into the superpower it's supposed to be, the enemy of the enemy must become our friend."

Bulkhead's head hit the slimy floor weakly. "MIko…" he rasped.

Sanchez took a gun from one of the MECH grunts. "I'm afraid that Ms. Nakadai, and Mr. Esquivel as well, will soon become causalities of an alien war that their so-called guardians failed to protect them from."

As he aimed the gun at Bulkhead's prone form, he looked the near-unconscious former Wreaker in the optic and said in a chilling calm voice, "And do you who the blame of those children's deaths, as well as the hundreds, thousands of others who were completely innocent will fall too? The great Optimus Prime himself. Humans will finish in four and a half hours what Megatron could not do in a thousand years."

Then Sanchez pulled the trigger, a burst of crackling energy was released, and Bulkhead knew no more.

**Yeah, again sorry that this took so long to upload. I can explain that:**

**See, I tend to obsess about the smallest of details, particularly whether or not a certain sentence flows right. I found it difficult in both the Ratchet/Arcee/Jack conversation, and the Bulkhead/Sanchez conversation was the most difficult to me simply because, to be frank, I was used to near simpleton Bulkhead from Transformers Animated. Prime Bulkhead is much more complex for me to write simply because I am not used to writing from the sensitive male POV.**

**Also, I debated long and hard with putting in a Bumblebee scene,` and in the end, I decided against it. Again, I am used to TFA Bumblebee, whose character is**_** far**_** from Prime's. Michael Bay's movies somehow made me dislike Bumblebee completely for a while, and it's hard for me to grasp the character of someone who doesn't talk enough to write what I feel is a suitable scene.**

**Finally, I wanted to give my readers a slightly longer chapter for their patience. I hope you enjoy chapter eleven.**

**Note: Please review. It makes me motivated to write if I am assured that there are readers waiting for me. Plus it makes a writer warm and fuzz inside!**


	12. Chapter 12

**4 hours and 19 minutes until detonation.**

Bumblebee was, by nature, a gentle soul. Though he always fought unwaveringly by his leader's side, his spark still ached with guilt as he took the lives of drones who were bred into unwaveringly loyalty to a vicious warlord. He was an even bigger sucker for humans, their squishiness and elaborate facial expressions often making him laugh in delight or feel pity for their fragility.

So it made him quite angry when human scum like MECH decided to exploit the delicacy of their own kind for their own gain. How dare they hold Raf and Rodgers hostage! He'd been on the path to becoming fast friends with the scientist, who had the rare gift of understanding him. When Rodgers was alone he was great company, being a very talkative man. The three of them had engaged in talk of video games, modern and old, due to the fact that Rodgers had been a video game tester in his early years and a game/app designer later on.

Rodgers skill was beyond technology, extending over to biology, chemistry, law and most importantly, astrobiology and exobiology. It was his expertise in these subjects that brought him to the attention of the government and Sanchez.

Sanchez had always been an extraterrestrial fan, almost to the point of being a fanatic. He had fought in the Iraq war as a young man and was a kind soul whose conscience was racked with guilt at the lives he took. Then his brother died. And with his sibling's death died Sanchez's once cheery nature.

After receiving his third Purple Heart, Sanchez was promoted through the ranks until he reached the rank of a Black Ops general. The war had taken away any trustfulness he once had. According to Rodgers, he'd jailed six of his own soldiers in the previous years in almost crazy displays of his so-called patriotic power. And now he was in control of an advanced species with weapons he could only dream of, on the side of an frighteningly indifferent murderous terrorist group of tech-obsessed, gun-wielding grunts led by a manic, and hoped to pin the deaths of thousands of people on the leader of the aforementioned species by detonating an atomic bomb powered by an alien substance stolen by aforementioned terrorists.

_Well_, thought Bumblebee as he again tested the strength of the thick, steel binders that secured him to an equally thick steel slab on the floor of yet another warehouse. _It could be worse_. How much worse exactly was something he was struggling to come up with.

He craned his head against yet another binding that covered part of his neck. He could just see Bulkhead out of the corner of his optics. The titan mech's arms, legs and shoulders were held down by even thicker steel than Bumblebee's shackles and was surrounded from a safe distance by no less than fifteen MECH grunts, all with electricity spitting guns trained on his helm, optics, torso, and joints.

Bumblebee couldn't find Raf, Rodgers, or Miko, which worried him. Apparently, one of his own guards noticed him awake, as his silent question was unexpectedly answered by the last man the scout wanted to see.

"Bumblebee, isn't it?" Silas smiled as he loomed over the immobile Autobot, the lights on his back shrouding part of his face in shadow and making him look even more menacing. "The small boy shouted it out upon awakening from his nasty little shock." He ignored Bumblebee's small growl of fury and continued. "In less than four and a half hours, the world will belong to MECH." He leaned in until his breath formed a slight condensation on bumblebee's faceplate as he spoke. "However, the world will descend in a small bout of madness first. And when everything goes to hell, the small are trampled underfoot first."

Bumblebee's optics widened as he understood Silas's implications and began to thrash against his bonds in hopes of breaking free and wringing the man's meaty neck. But despite his best efforts, he was powerless to do anything but watch Silas calmly stand up and walk away.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"We have a situation," said Ratchet, his voice even more stressed than usual.

"Sorry I haven't noticed," growled Arcee, as she swerved once again into the oncoming lane in an attempt to put some distance between them and their MECH assailants. Horns blared obnoxiously, and Arcee was forced to stifle the urge to transform and stick up her middle digit at the drivers like the kids at Jack's school seemed so fond of doing to each other.

"I've lost contact with both Bulkhead and Bumblebee," Ratchet said urgently. "And the second explosive that Bumblebee was tracking is now on the move along with the first."

"Arcee. Jack." Optimus's deep voice caused the pair's comms to vibrate powerfully. "Once you lose MECH and retreat to a more unpopulated area, we will send a ground bridge. From there-"

A sudden _crack_ interrupted the Prime's orders, and caused Jack to instinctively duck. Arcee quickly ran a diagnostic and what she found left her outraged.

"My mirror! They chipped my mirror!" Despite the fact that a majority of her processor was devoted to figuring out a path via GPS, listening to her leader, worrying about Jack, worrying about her teammates, and trying to figure out what the frag MECH was up to, she still found a small empty patch that she could devote to griping over her mirror.

"Are those shots?" June's panicked voice came over the comm. "Jackson Darby, what is going on?"

"Nothing," Jack and Arcee chorused simultaneously.

Luckily, Ratchet interrupted before June could continue. "Optimus is right. We need you to go with Optimus and free the others. This disaster must be averted."

"Only Arcee," June's voice broke through again. "Jack is staying at base."

"Mom," Jack said quietly. "I have a score to settle."

Optimus spoke quietly, or as quietly as the noble leader could manage. "Jackson. Do not allow your vendettas to endanger the lives of your friends." His words were only met with silence.

**Hello! How is it going? It's Lionfire42 and Transformers Prime season 2 is off to a great start! Episode 2 was epic! But back to work. As I writer, I only ask that you review. Oh, and can someone tell me how to use those gray little page separators? The X's are okay, but it makes the story kind of messy.**

**Oh, and I just realized that I was kind of sort of supposed to tell people that I don't own Transformers. But you people are smart enough that I don't need to remind you. However, just for the sake of it (and to avoid any potential lawsuits), I admit that I don't own Transformers Prime.**


	13. Chapter 13

**3 hours and 58 minutes until detonation.**

Arcee finally managed to shake the MECH pursuers in an incident that involved some fancy driving and a soda truck. Now that they were free, she could now head to the edge of town and catch a bridge to base, drop off her partner to his ever-worrying mother, and help Optimus free her comrades from the clutches of a madman.

At least, in theory. In practice, a little thing called reality tends to mess up the best written plans.

One of the most hated sounds she'd ever heard reached Arcee's audio receptors. It was the sound of an approaching helicopter. Tilting her rearview mirrors, the Autobot was greeted by the less-then welcoming sight of a boxy, purple and black copter.

"Really?" Jack exploded. Apparently, the boy only lost his cool when confronted by the being who wanted his head on a stand, never mind the elite terrorist organization. Then again, most other people would probably wet their pants after nearly being decapitated. "Does she always have to be around?"

"Airachnid," Arcee snarled.

"Airachnid!" shrieked June. "She's there?"

"Unfortunately," responded Arcee grimly.

"It was probably only a matter of time until they caught wind of us," grunted Ratchet. "Considering the fact that we've been moving to and fro for so long and with such urgency."

"Arcee, are you in the clear?" Optimus's voice rumbled.

Arcee checked her surroundings, as she pulled off an expressway ramp onto a relatively quiet street. "Not yet. Give me about six minutes, tops."

"We don't have six minutes," Jack broke in. "Look."

On the underside of Airachnid's alt-mode, a boxy section was opening revealing four darkly tipped missiles.

As usual, Jack and Arcee were in such sync, they were able to simultaneously sum up the situation and their frustration perfectly. "Oh, for the love of Primus."

"Optimus, we can shake off the spider, but you need to get to Bulkhead and Bumblebee. We're running out of time."

"Understood." In the silo, Optimus turned to Ratchet. "Have you located Bulkhead's and Bumblebee's signature?"

"I'm afraid so," responded Ratchet. "Either MECH doesn't have shielding, or they want us to find them. Meaning it is most certainly a trap."

"I fear you are right, old friend." Optimus's optics narrowed. "Silas has proven numerous times he has no respect for the life of others, be they organic or machine. It is time to defeat him once and for all. Ratchet, fire up the ground bridge."

The hum of energy filled the silo, and the ground bridge opened in a halo of multicolored light. Optimus nodded to the other occupants of the room before squaring his mighty shoulders and walking through the portal.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Silas stood calmly in the mouth of the open warehouse, watching the glowing tear in time and space. Everything as coming to fruition. Soon his dreams of control would come true and everything he ever wanted would be at his fingertips.

Sanchez stood at his side, squinting at the glowing gap. "Why aren't your men aiming their guns?"

"All in good time, my acquaintance, all in good time."

A broad silhouette appeared through the gap. The shape soon acquired color and MECH stood silently as Optimus Prime emerged, weapons online and ready.

"Silas." The Prime's transportation disappeared, and his faceplates lid in place. "It is time for you to answer for your crimes against Autobots and the innocents of your species."

"Save the humanitarian speech, Mr. Prime." Silas's face was seemingly blank and devoid of emotion, yet Optimus could see the evil glint of smug victory in his eyes. "I suspect everyone has already heard it before. But since you have confirmed my belief of your lacking ability to sacrifice, I offer you a choice."

The MECH leader snapped his fingers, and a grunt came forth, dragging a struggling Raf with him.

Optimus's weapon began to power up. "Release him Silas."

Silas mockingly appeared to think about it. "Hmm…I really don't think so, Prime. You came here to free you're comrades, but I think you'll find my plan more…persuading. You will contact your base, and send for a bridge. Upon arrival of the bridge, you will order any remaining troops and civilians, save the bridge operator, out of the base, so that my men and I may enter in relative safety.

"Should you refuse to comply, I will order my men to execute Ms. Nakadai and Mr. Rodgers, both who are currently in an undisclosed location. And should you attempt any trickery…"

The grunt that held Raf was handed a metal cylinder and a harness. It was the E-bomb.

Optimus could only watch helplessly as two grunts held the boy still, while a third strapped the bomb and harness on his back securely.

"…Mr. Esquivel's intelligent brain will splatter the wall. And for a small demo, I introduce you to the amount of control I currently have over this situation."

Silas took a small remote out of his pockets as the grunts roughly turned Raf around so that the timer faced the Autobot leader. Silas tapped in a code in pressed a button.

On the bomb, the ticking timer suddenly stopped, and went blank. After a second the numbers reappeared, only there were far less than before. All that remained now was a one and two zeros.

A single minute.

Optimus's optics widened horror. Silas noticed his reaction and chuckled. "Oh do not fret, Mr. Prime. That number is simply the standby amount. It was the failsafe should the bomb be sabotaged and needed quick detonation. The timer is still counting down from original time. Should I type in a certain code, any remaining time shall be reduced to one minute and began the countdown to there. Now that you know what you are truly up against, I suggest you contact your base. Now."

Optimus glared at him for a second before his shoulders slumped. Pressing the side of his helm, Optimus wearily and reluctantly contacted base. "Ratchet, send forth a groundbridge."


	14. Chapter 14

**Detonation time: unknown**

Silas watched as an African-American man in a suit emerged from the portal, followed by a beautiful woman with raven hair. Darby's mother, Silas recalled. Both had their hands up, but Ms., Darby's hands dropped to cover her mouth in horror as she beheld the sight of a disheveled Raf trapped between two MECH agents. She started towards the boy but was stopped when several men aimed their guns at her. Having been on the receiving end of their electric bolts, she had no desire to go through such an experience again, despite her mother's instinct screaming to go to Raf's side.

"Is that all?" Silas asked Optimus, his dark eyes never leaving the glowing portal.

"That is all," confirmed the Prime.

Silas turned to his troops. "Men, move out."

His men rushed forward until they reached the portal. There they all paused, uncertain about what would happen should the take the leap, or in this case step of faith. Before Silas could yell at them to get moving, or perhaps just shoot one, Sanchez took the lead, confidently striding through the tear to the space beyond. Silas's eyebrow quirked. Sanchez was gutsy. That could prove to be a problem. If he wasn't careful, this crisscross would become a double-cross for the second time in mere months (all though technically, he was the one who double-crossed first in the last alliance.)

The MECH leader wasn't worried though. He knew where his men's loyalty lay. And so would Sanchez, should the general attempt to turn against him.

Silas directed twenty or so of his best shooters to guard the prisoners, and seizing the scuff of Raf's shirt, hauled the shaking child along with him to the portal. Stopping just in front of the bridge, Silas couldn't help one last comment.

"Thank you, Mr. Prime. General Sanchez's report was quite true. You _are_ quite generous."

Turning round he entered the ground bridge and emerged in the Autobot base.

* * *

><p>In her hundreds of stellarcycles across the galaxy, Arcee had met few of Megatron's follower's that were as persistent as the warlord himself. Most were skittish and dishonorable, willing to stab their "beloved" leader in the chassis the moment they could be sure that they wouldn't be turned to scrap. But Airachnd was a completely different breed. She was still skittish and dishonorable, but her persistence to kill Arcee and take Jack's head would have impressed even Megatron.<p>

Arcee swerved violently as she sped down a back alley on the outskirts of Las Vegas, feeling her rider nearly fall off. Personally, she was impressed he had hung on for as long as he had, considering one arm was in a cast. His ribs were still bothering him; she could see the facial muscles around him mouth tense and read the spike in his heart rate jump every time she turned sharply. But he would never admit to any pain. He was resilient, like her. Arcee wasn't sure if that was such a good thing.

Speaking of resilient…

A second missile turned an impressive sky blue sports car into a hissing lump of acid burned metal. Arcee groaned. It seemed as if the spider bot had a variety of different projectiles. The first had been full of energon, and had taken out what appeared to be one of the few phone booths left in the world.

As Airachnid readied her third missile, Arcee attempted for what seemed like the hundredth time to contact base. "Ratchet, do you read me? I repeat, do you read?"

Nothing.

"Scrap. Doesn't she ever go anywhere without that fragging blocker?"

"I believe it is part of the sport to make her victims in around in circles aimlessly."

Arcee exhaled heavily through her vents. If her partner had one flaw, it was the fact that he inserted logic into situations where she _really_ did not want to hear it.

"We need to stop her, now. We can't risk her attracting too much attention."

As soon as the words left her voice-box, the faint, but steadily growing sound of sirens could be heard. Arcee wanted nothing more than to face palm. As it was, Jack face palmed hard enough to make it up for the both of them.

Distracted as she was by her ire, she didn't notice the third missile detonating less than twenty yards ahead of her. She resisted the instability of the shifting concrete that was being affected by the resounding shockwave, and swerved to the far right, hoping to avoid the smoking crater in the street that she assumed was there.

While there _was_ a lot of smoky cover, the smoke was not actually smoke. The more appropriate term would have been vapor, the kind seen rising from boiling water, or in some cases, extreme cold. And fast-acting liquid nitrogen designed to solidify on contact with an object is most certainly very cold.

Arcee's wheels hit the edge of the ice, but that was enough. She swerved violently, wheels spinning in vain to find purchase on the slick surface. The only way to stop herself would be to transform, but that would mean dumping off Jack.

As it was, the problem was immediately solved when Arcee's swerve violently dislodged Jack. He was sent flying through the air, his one good arm flailing. The good news was that he did not land on the ice, where the still rising vapor would have frozen his moist flesh to the surface, and left him at the mercy of the approaching Decepticon. The bad news was that he landed hard ahead of Arcee on the equally solid asphalt-on his broken arm.

As Arcee transformed facing her enemy, she could not help the wince that the sound of re-breaking bones brought to her faceplate. Her wince soon turned into a mask of rage. How dare that spider-bot hurt her partner again! As she prepared to face her arch-nemesis once more, Arcee's resolve to end the Con's spark-beat had never felt more crystal clear.

* * *

><p>Airachnid felt triumph as she descended from the skies onto her prey like a vulture on a dying animal. She hissed eagerly as looked beyond Arcee to the sprawling, groaning form of Jack. <em>Her<em> Jack.

Arcee had an insane notion that any male that came around her and her shiny little blue paint job belonged to her. Hadn't Airachnid proven time and time again that the cycle-bot had to learn to share? It wasn't here fault that so many of Arcee's toys ended up…broken.

And now she could play with another of the Autobot's toys: the little human Jack. Now that she was once again a member of the Decepticon army, she could no longer bring her trophies on board. The last time she had, Knockout threw a fit, complaining that the hiker's still bloody head was dripping on the floor, and blood was hard to get out without use of chemicals that would mess up his paint job. But luckily, Megatron had simply rolled his optics and told her if she was going to go quench her bloodthirst, make sure she kept her keepsakes somewhere off the ship, away from prying human eyes, and for the Allspark's sake, make sure she didn't attract to much attention.

And so she had. She'd kept out of the public eye, and every other week or so came went down to the surface, and came back up to the ship, humming as she made her way to the wash racks to clear the blood from her sharp claws and multi-jointed legs. But as she made her kills, she began to notice things about her hunting patterns, and in turn her victims. Rather than pick off the kid on the edge of a summer camp, she'd knock over trees to scatter the group so to pick off a boy with raven hair. And another time on recon, she took great pleasure in listening to the screams of a man with blue-grey eyes.

And thus, the once indiscriminate killer started to become picky about her prey. In the beginning it was simply boys with dark hair; then it became boys with raven to jet black hair. And in that group, she made sure their eyes were some shade of blue. She was obsessed. She knew, the crew knew it. Even the usually dense Breakdown knew it, after he'd come across her searching random people's profile pictures via a social networking site for a new target.

And now, here was source of her obsession, helpless except for his guardian, who would soon be taken care of. Who knew? If she was feeling good after the inevitable fight, maybe she'd keep Arcee online long enough to see the femme's reaction as she slowly and steadily cut off Jack's head.

**And I am back! Sorry for being gone for so long, but the soon to arrive spring break has rejuvenated my writing bug once more! I've been reading other's works, and it's good to see the TF: Prime archive booming! I'll try to write this next chapter over spring break, but I'll be gone a lot, and probably won't get it done.**

**Please, don't forget to review! **


	15. Chapter 15

**Detonation time: unknown**

Bulkhead woke to find himself strapped down and immobile. His processor felt fried and the pain in his joints beckoned to the fringes of unconsciousness that stellercycles of training fought against.

_ Where the slag am I?…feels like my head hit the Doc-bot's wrench…wait…there was a mission…bomb…government…SANCHEZ!...he was a traitor!...hang on… where is Miko?...if he hurt her!..._

Bulkhead almost started to thrash against his bindings but stopped just in time. He could see several MECH agents from the corner of eye on the right, and all had their guns pointing at his head. He knew that those weren't ordinary weapons, and had no doubt that there were several other men he could not see. If he started acting crazy and they knocked him out again, he would be in no position to help his friend. What he needed was a plan.

Which, unfortunately, was something he wasn't really good at making. Very few Wreckers were. Now that he thought about it, Bulkhead wasn't sure exactly how so many of their group had survived as they did before the war. It must have been their teamwork, he mused. That explained why so many of them fell so quickly when they broke apart to different units of Autobots and Decepticons back on Cybertron.

Bulkhead's musings were brought to abrupt halt when one of MECH agents kicked his servo.

"Stupid lump of metal," the man muttered.

"Can't wait to melt it down," agreed another.

"Maybe the boss will let us make the girl watch her precious robot turn to molten lead," said the first one.

"Yeah, that'll teach her to bite me, the stupid kid," growled he second. "I hope she screams."

The first one smirked. "I know a way to make her scream."

There was pause before the second man hooted. "What, Katie showing wear and tear already?"

The first man joined into his friend's derisive laughter. "Hey, she thinks I'm on a tour of duty in the middle of the ocean. I haven't had any fun in ages. When a guy has needs, he meets them anyway he can." He then lowered his voice. "In fact, I bet this thing won't be waking up for hours. That's more than enough time for me and his little lady to have some…fun."

Now Bulkhead wasn't exactly on top of current human idioms and phrases, but he was protective enough to research potential dangers for his charge, and the warning signs for such dangers. Plus, he'd learned enough lingo from puberty-inflicted boys who thought Miko's Japanese culture meant she was an exotic tourist and stupidly oblivious to their advances. And with this prior knowledge, Bulkhead's protective instinct rushed up full force, along with his damaging rage. All notions of a plan were erased, and the only thoughts that went through his processor were something along the lines of this: _Protect Miko…crush MECH…protect Miko…crush MECH…protect Miko…_

Bulkhead's restraints were built to hold Cybertronians based off of Breakdown's physical power. However, they were not designed to withhold the violent expulsion of Bulkhead's concern and rage, and to the shock of the two MECH agents, the Cybertronian warrior's arm tore the bindings from the floor like it was no more than paper. They, along with the rest of their team, were so shocked, neither man realized that the arm was now falling towards them at an ever increasing velocity, the servos now tightly formed into an enormous fist.

The second man was quite unlucky. Bulkhead's arm width was larger than his body and he was promptly crushed beneath the titan's limb. The first man was luckier, but not by much. He'd snapped out of his daze quicker and had thrown himself backwards. Unfortunately, (or fortunately, depending on one's point of view) he failed to completely clear himself of the danger zone, and everything below the waist (yes, _everything_) was tuned into something vaguely resembled a child's vomit after an all-you-can-eat spaghetti festival.

Bulkhead's satisfaction at the men's misfortune was short-lived as the rest Mech agents started to fire at him. But their normally impeccable aims were off, as they struggled to shake off the violent death and maiming of their companions. In the first volley of shots, maybe a third of the shots hit the target, and most of the hits were of the sides, legs and shoulders of the Autobot, all places which were heavily armored and produced little effect on the behemoth.

Before the men could get their bearings for a second volley, Bulkhead was moving, using his arm as leverage to wrench himself up, and tearing his bindings on his throat and chest in the process. The second volley was released by all the shots hit his back and chest. Bulkhead finally managed to free his upper body and reached down to tear off the binding around his legs.

Agony tore through his servo angrily and Bulkhead released a pained grunt. One of the shooters had managed to tag him with a lucky shot, and the effects were far from good. Less than a couple of seconds after the hit, and already his servo felt numb. He needed to get out of here, quick.

Using his right servo, the former wrecker seized the binding metal around his legs and pulled.

Concrete cracked. Metal screamed. The sound of gunfire reached an almost desperate level. And then…

Success.

With a triumphant yell, Bulkhead tore the restraints from their holdings, concrete, dust and the now mangled remains of underground piping rising in the air.

Hauling himself to his feet, Bulkhead threw his shackles away from him, toward a large bank of computers where several men were attempting to try to make a connection. Yelling the men, scrambled out of the way, and the tangled mess that passed as a projectile landed haphazardly, reducing months' worth of research, technology, and planning into a mess of wires and plastic.

Bulkhead bared his dentas at the group of men now converging on him that consisted of the remains of his guard, as well as the Bumblebee's guards, who rightly determined that a free Autobot was more dangerous than one still shackled.

Both parties stared at each other, waiting for one to make the first move. Bulkheads fists tightened. The MECH agents grasped the holds on their guns, their index fingers almost aching with anticipation.

And then a black-clad figure flew into the warehouse through the window, and all hell broke loose, drowning out the sound of still falling glass.

**Outside, one and a half minutes earlier**

Optimus shifted his weight, and the sharpshooters followed his movement like hungry dogs following the movement of a thick steak. Tension was thick in the air, for despite being professionals, the men were still human. And being human, they were of course afraid of the nearly five-story tall robot who, despite his battle mask, and impassive face, still gave off the aura of a person who really wants to step on a distracting, bothersome ant. A little more than two dozen distracting, bothersome ants. Not that Optimus saw them as ants. Ants could not talk. Nor could they shoot, fly helicopters, and dissect enormous robots from outer space.

Despite all the insult and crimes laid against each other, Optimus still found it in his spark to be able to forgive humans. They destroyed their environment, set off in war against each other and often killed for more than petty items. In many places, the officials of government were corrupt, and lived in palaces in lives of luxury as their people starved and died in the streets below, reminding Optimus far too clearly of the castes of the dead Cybertron.

But in the murky darkness, light continue to shine, in one's heart if not their eyes. Whenever Optimus roamed the streets of Jasper, he would often see children playing and talking, or watch a teenager relax with book at night or send a friendly e-mail in their rooms. With children, there was no caste system. Children of different race, of different background, of different status befriended each other, not affected by the issues that adults seemed to insist was part of the world. In places the world over, children reached out for aid or support through technology, not limited by the geological and mental borders set by their elders.

Adults said that technology rotted children's brain, and made into little more than robots. Perhaps they were right. But for now all, Optimus could see was the wonder and connectivity of the children's tech, and was moved by the bonds forged through it.

And so, the last of the Primes could feel nothing but anger as a group took the technology of the future, developed by the future, into their own hands for power and control. And to add injury to insult, they were willing to kill off one of their young to achieve it. He could not, _would_ not allow them to succeed.

The sound of tearing metal suddenly reached his audio receptors, and Optimus looked up at the warehouse from where the disturbance had come. He wasn't the only one; all of his guards looked up in wary curiosity and fear, which immediately turned into concern when gunfire erupted. The men started towards the warehouse and Optimus saw his chance. Shouting for Agent Fowler and June to run, he placed himself in front of them while simultaneously sweeping his right arm along the ground so that when the MECH gunners turned towards the group, his arm acted as both a barrier and an oncoming wall.

The tactic worked exactly as he expected; the rain of gunfire aimed towards the fleeing humans was blocked by the Prime's enormous arm. The men were still shooting when Optimus's arm's momentum swept the men aside like a child scattering leaves. One man was caught on the tip of one of Optimus's servos, and when the Autobot leader's arm reached the upward peak of his impromptu attack, the man was thrown away, spinning end over end through the air, and crashing through the window of the warehouse. The moment he went through, the gunfire, which had briefly halted, started up again in earnest.

* * *

><p>Fowler was quick to drag June out of danger, half carrying her away into a modified SUV that looked like it was designed to withstand a tank. They almost got there without incident, due to most of the attention being turned to the enormous metal being that was now rushing away to the warehouse where the trouble had first started. But then, <em>almost<em> making something never won a prize.

A MECH commando wielding a what appeared to a set of oversized curved knives appeared out of nowhere, almost slitting June's neck. She jumped back with a shriek, bumping into Fowler and falling to the ground. The government agent stepped in front of the helpless (and good looking) nurse protectively.

"Yo, samurai! How 'bout you scuttle off and grab us some sushi?"

The commando said nothing, instead opting to twirl his blades and crack his neck.

Fowler cracked his knuckles in response as June scrambled to her feet. She slowly began to back away as the two men began to circle each other.

While he maintained his confident demeanor on the outside, on the inside, Fowler was figuratively sweating bullets. He'd been taught hand-to-hand combat back in the army, but that had been years ago and had been mostly about blocking against an enemy who had gotten up close and personal and was either boxing you or trying to hit you over the head with his gun. There hadn't been an instruction course about guy who wielded swords and really how to use them. If there had been, Fowler had most likely slept through it, seeing how he really hadn't gotten the hand of early rising then.

Assuming a boxer's stance, Fowler called out, "Let's see what you got!"

The commando complied immediately, moving at the agent quickly. Fowler jumped back at the first swing, hit the ground and rolled, coming unsteadily to is feet.

As he reoriented himself, Fowler's eyes caught sight of something colorful on the ground. It looked a lot like…

A quick check confirmed his suspicions: the MECH commando had sliced his favorite tie in half.

Fowler glared, his dark eyes meeting the inhuman goggled gaze of his opponent. "Oh, now it is on."

* * *

><p><strong>Yes, if you suspect this is filler, you are correct. I realized that I really hadn't been expanding to the other characters as much, and attempted to try to write through the eyes of the others. Fowler's part came as a surprise, but this story has kind of been writing itself lately. <strong>

**Remember to review! Reviews do wonders! **


	16. Chapter 16

**Denotation time: unknown**

Arcee was growing anxious now. She wasn't sure how much time had passed now, thanks to no communication, and she had approximately three minutes to defeat her sworn enemy before she had to blow her cover to the local police. That would be the icing on the cake, she thought warily. She was already breaking rules by being in a populated area.

Luckily, it was a Saturday, and almost all the houses were completely empty. Some had lights but they were a little further down and in order to see her, people would have to come out of their homes. Something which very few people would do, considering the fact that there were explosions just outside their homes.

Airachnid lunged, her extra limbs propelling her forward. Arcee met her midway, crashing her shoulder into the spiderbot's torso and sending them both crashing to the ground. Airachnid hissed and lashed out with a bladed leg. Arcee parried, bringing one blade up to block the blow, and the other to strike the slightly exposed joint just ahead of the weapon. Airachnid released a cry as the blade flew end over end through the air.

Jack's sense snapped back into full alert as he heard the cry of his would-be murderer. He looked up toward the battle as one of Airachnid's fatal blades flew up into the air and began to fall….directly towards him.

Ignoring the pain in his re-shattered arm, Jack rolled instinctively away. The blade fell, point up, directly where his head had been moments before, it's momentum driving it through the asphalt.

"Hey!"

The teenager painfully, slowly looked up, his gaze meeting that of a weathered-looking old man. It took a moment for Jack to focus, but once he did so, he was surprised to see that the man was glaring at hi with intense dislike.

"All an old man wants to do," the man scowled, "is have some rest. Now you get you and your trouble-making buddies out of here or I'll call the police on you for setting off black-market fireworks."

Jack blinked, and then looked over to where Arcee was starting to slowly back away from her adversary, continuing to block the numerous blows being rained upon her. The sirens were growing ever louder.

"Hey, now." The man craned his neck and squinted against the setting sun. "What do you have there?"

The pain in his arm was growing ever steadily, and his head was aching and ringing, echoing the sounds of the man's questions and the sirens. And then he couldn't hear anything at all, because Airachnid had loosened her final missile and sent him flying through the air.

His ears were not working. But his other senses were working fine. He could taste the tainted earth on his teeth; taste the separate granules of dirt and ashy grass. He could see the ruined lawn in front of him, and he witnessed the front door opening and a young woman running out, her eyes bulging in fear. And worst of all, he could feel the sticky blood beneath his fingers as it trailed from the old man's crushed skull. He could feel the broken pieces of asphalt that had been bred from its larger counterpart upon the man' chest; could feel as the steady beat that had allowed them to quiver slowly died away. And though he could not hear, he knew the young woman was screaming, at him, at the old man to wake up, please wake up. And then a flash of blue-green light erupted from nowhere, shining brighter than the lights of the police vehicle and the flashes of gun muzzles. And strong, warm metal hands seized him and turned the woman's face into a blur as they whisked him away into another place, a place with sound, because the silence was so much more painful.

* * *

><p>Arcee's joints ached, both from the blows struck by her foe and painful vibration of bullets from human police. The explosion had sent her flying back, where she had almost impaled an arm on the blade she had severed just moments before. It lay just in front of her, its blade adopting the blue hue of a partner's blood for a single second. And then she was scrambling up, grabbing the immobile blade on an unusual whim.<p>

The police had arrived, sirens screaming bloody murder. That description wasn't far off, she realized, tanks lurching as she spotted two unmoving bodies on a human's lawn.

Airachnid turned, hissing as the officers opened fire on both bots. Arcee used the distraction to hurry over to her partner. The older human beneath him was dead, if the caved in skull was any indication. A woman no older than June was screaming desperately for the older male to wake up. Arcee paid her no mind as the familiar _whoosh _of a groundbridge reached her audio receptors. Seizing Jack in her hands, she hurled herself backwards and to the side through the portal, and landed hard on the concrete of the silo floor.

"I don't suppose you could wait any _longer_ next time?" Arcee froze, sprawled on the floor. She knew that voice all too well.

Slowly, her optics traveled upward, past the army of masked men to the human's area of the base, where Silas was standing, looking for all the world like the proverbial child on a Christmas morning.

"Scrap."

* * *

><p>Fowler grunted as he narrowly avoided yet another slash. The commando was starting to get on the last of his already frayed nerves, and not for the first time, Fowler's hands wanted to hold a gun.<p>

He continued to turn facing his opponent, waiting for a chance to land a good punch to the face. But the MECH agent was having none of that, and continued to dart back and forth, successfully confusing Fowler.

With a sudden lunge, the Commando lunged again, seemingly aiming Fowler's stomach. The agent jumped backwards once more, but the Commando was not done. Pivoting on a single foot, he brought one of his blades upward in a devastating slash, where it finally met a target.

With a howl of pain, William Fowler sank to his knees, clutching the stump of bloody wrist where his right hand had been. He looked up into the eyes of the commando, his vision swimming in and out of focus with pain. The blade glistened with hi blood as the man raised it for a killing blow.

Suddenly, the headlights of a car came on just meters away, and for the first time, Fowler heard the sound of an ever accelerating engine. Hurling himself to the ground, Fowler landed on his back in time to hear a solid thump and a nasty crack, and see the car stop directly where he had been moments before.

The last thing he saw before darkness claimed him was June Darby's tear-streaked face as she hurried to him.

* * *

><p><strong>I really like writing Fowler's POV. I didn't think I'd be able to write him as a have.<strong>

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	17. Chapter 17

**Detonation Time: Unknown**

Arcee stifled a frustrated groan as rose slowly to her knees. If only she had thrown a drill at Silas instead of a man…

"Arcee." The MECH leader walked down the steps slowly, as if he was taking his time to make sure the stairs were stable. "We meet again. Funny how the circumstances are so like before isn't it?"

"Hilarious." Arcee ground out. She unconsciously pulled Jack closer to her body.

Silas smiled. "Well, we are certainly glad you are here for a reunion. And ths time we have a new…guest."

A MECH guard shoved Raf forward, where Silas seized him by the scuff of his neck and held still in front of himself, effectively ending any notion of idea of simply shooting the terrorist.

"So what's your plan?"

"Excuse me?" Silas frowned at Jack, thrown briefly by the question.

Jack's face as white with pain; he held his side at an odd angle, and he kept reaching up to rub his chest, yet his face was set in a brave grimace and his eyes shone with a determined light. "Doesn't the villain tell his master plan at this point?"

Silas looked genuinely offended at being defined as a villain, but humored the boy anyway. "My plan has changed. Instead of receiving one transformer, I now have five. Of course, you and the operator here-" he said , jerking his thumb at a furious Ratchet whom Arcee hadn't noticed until then. "-will be somewhat more charred, and I feel we may be a little hard-pressed to retrieve your admittedly limited remains of technology before Megatron arrives, but your other friends will serve our purpose if you do not."

"So you're willing to kill a child for power?" Arcee's voice could have frozen the Atlantic Ocean.

"Not just power," Silas corrected. "But for change also."

"And your sacrifice will fuel America's vessel of prosperity," said Sanchez, speaking up for the first time. He looked calmly at Jack. "You're an American child. Soon you will see the good of your sacrifice. You've been led astray by these…people," he spat, making 'people' sound like a curse. "But make peace with yourself now, and you'll be proud to die for your country. And if you don't, the mourners will call you a martyr anyway, or at least a tragedy."

Arcee and Jack exchanged glances, and then looked at the two men. "You're nuts," they said simultaneously.

"There's a fine line between genius and madness," Silas smiled. "Haven't you heard?" His smile dropped abruptly. "Step away from the robot, boy. I haven't forgotten what you did with my radio before, and I won't be letting you try anything funny like that again."

Arcee stiffed and briefly drew Jack even closer to her, almost overshadowing him with her mass. Then she relinquished her grip and allowed Jack to start stagger away to the side of the silo. Two men started forward to flank him.

And then Jack was turning on is heel, his good arm taking something shiny and sharp from the sleeve of his cast. Airachnid's blade. The arm whipped back and forth, and the blade flew through the air directly towards Silas.

The man ducked, which was just as well, considering that Jack hadn't been really aiming towards him; rather, he was aiming at the man _behind _Silas.

Perhaps some deity was watching over him that day, but Jack's throw struck true. The man howled in panic as the blade shattered the lens in his left goggle. In his panic, the grunt tightened his already tight grip of the trigger of his weapon.

Electric rounds tore from the barrel, hitting several men. Two hit Silas point blank in the back, and he toppled to the ground, steam rising from his armor, and the smell of burning hair quickly spreading through the air.

Arcee and Jack worked simultaneously, Arcee lunging forth and beginning to swat MECH grunts and Jack seizing Raf's hand and dragging him out of the fray. Sanchez saw the boys hurry away, and roared out, "What are you idiots waiting for? Take her out and get that bomb!"

The men responded immediately, shooting out several rounds of metal and electric slugs.

Nobody saw Ratchet standing discreetly to the side with one servo on his comm.

* * *

><p>Sanchez could almost feel his dreams crumbling to dust in his hands. Silas was down, and half of the terrorist's men were on the floor with him. The rest were trying to hit the constantly shifting female, and were epically failing. And now the bomb was out of his reach.<p>

No, he realized with a start as is eyes drifted to Silas's prone figure. It may have been out of his hands, but it was far from out of his reach.

Dropping to his knees, Sanchez did a quick search of Silas's pockets and felt his heart leap as he found what he needed. The detonator was safe nd sound, and had not short-circited. Quickly, he began to punch in the code.

Glancing up, Sanchez's eye's met a pair of blue-grey ones across the silo. The eyes widened as the owner realized what he was doing.

With a wicked grin and a care-free lauh, General Sanchez activated the E-bomb's contingency codes.

**And…cliffhanger! Yes, I hate these too…unless I'm making them. And I'd like to make a toast to all my favorite fanfiction writers who are making a name for themselves in the vast confines known as . Let's have a hand for:**

**Foxbear**

**BlackWolf219**

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**Hexalys**

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**CyberAngelAlexis**

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**Please note I also appreciate my reviewers and if your name was not on the list, I apologize. These are all the names from the top of my head.**

**Speaking of which…Please Review!**

**Almost forgot... remembered while editing...THANK YOU ForgottenForever for teaching me about line breaks!**


	18. Chapter 18

**Detonation time: One minute**

For an entire second, Jack was frozen. The sudden shock of going from sparking victory to terrible disaster paralyzed him completely. He stood watching as the bomb on Raf's back suddenly flared, a one and two zeros emerging on the screen. For a second, it seemed that the world had stopped and an enormous spotlight was focused with laser intensity on the twelve-year old.

And then the one and the zeros were replaced with a five and a nine, and the world came rushing back into motion.

Dropping to a knee, Jack ignored his protesting ribs and chest, and using a single arm, began to dismantle the bonds holding the lethal device to his friends back.

The MECH soldiers seemed to sense the fact that they had nothing to lose and half of the soldiers still conscience rushed for the elevator, shoving and pushing and trampling their fallen comrades and their leader in the process. The rest threw themselves into the task of taking down Arcee, who was still swatting them aside like flies.

**Detonation time: Fifty-three seconds**

The bonds were a third of the way removed by now. The process was hindered by the fact that Jack was restricted to using only one hand, and his fingers were slippery with sweat. They slid over the plastic and leather bindings, and were cut several times by the hard material.

One soldier took aim at the two. Arcee's entire foot caught him and two of his comrades in a bone-crushing kick. One hit the wall, and the other two disappeared into the depths of the base. It was doubtful they would get up soon, if at all.

Ratchet silently cheered as the compressed data package he'd sent into the main computer took hold of the virus that MECH had sent through and began to rapidly dismantle it.

**Detonation time: forty-five seconds**

Arcee cried out as an electric shot finally hit her. The knee that had taken the hit went numb, and Arcee fell, stopping her descent only by putting her servos out. The remaining soldiers who seemed to have accepted their fate converged, ready to take her out. Arcee did the only thing she could think of: she seized a fire extinguisher and hurled it towards the men, hooting it with a plasma bolt before it hit them.

The result was interesting, to say the least. The pressurized container was violently ripped open, exploding its contents. The plasma bolt was suddenly cooled down by the foam and turned instead into superhot steam -superhot steam that acted as a painful shockwave, lifting the closest soldiers off their feet and into their comrades behind them. Some of the men who had fired as soon as the shot was released shot at the black—clad projectiles flying towards them, projectiles that were also known as their comrades.

Jack had by now removed two-thirds of Raf's bindings, but was stunned briefly as Arcee's makeshift bomb caused him to lose his hearing. Shaking his head, Jack resumed his task with fervor as his eyes once again shot unwillingly to the unforgiving timer.

**Detonation time: Thirty-four seconds**

Ratchet could have sobbed in relief as the small discreet _bing_ told him that MECH's virus had been successfully eradicated. Turning his attention to the ground-bridge controls, Ratchet began to set the coordinates for the only place he knew the bomb could pose no harm to humans.

Several men were still struggling to get out, and some were trying to stop others who were trying to get in the already terribly packed space from keeping the doors open and the car in place. One man was thrown clear from the chaos and landed painfully on the mall table in the human's area.

Jack had finally managed to unstrap Raf, and the little boy fell to his knees, crawling away on all fours immediately. The teenager realized then that he had absolutely no plan on how exactly he was going to the bomb from killing Raf anyway, even though it had been removed. Luckily, he didn't have to, because the ground-bridge suddenly erupted to life behind him. Ratchet yelled at him to go, and Jack understood immediately what to do.

**Detonation time: Twenty-seven seconds**

Jack didn't even make it three steps before something smashed into him, making him scream in pain. He landed only a few feet from the open ground-bridge, a heavy weight on top of him. The weight turned out to be Sanchez, who had been hiding somewhere away from the fray. The general began punching him fiercely across the face, causing blood to well in the teenager's mouth.

Arcee struggled to stand but collapsed once more, and was forced to defend herself from the handful of soldiers who had managed to get to their feet.

Ratchet started forward but was forced to turn around as a stray MECH agent began shooting at the ground-bridge controls. The man would not shoot for long, but it was long enough to restrict Ratchet's already limited aid to zilch.

Raf stopped crawling away and stumbled to his feet. He ran back to where Jack lay helpless against the general's onslaught and jumped on Sanchez's back, wrapping his hands around the psychotic man's neck.

**Detonation time: Twenty seconds**

Sanchez shrugged Raf off, but the distraction was exactly what Jack needed. Gathering his wits, he slammed the adamantium bomb into the side of Sanchez's head.

Sanchez reeled, but proved to be capable of his now non-existent title. Abandoning his efforts to pummel Jack into the ground, Sanchez instead pressed down with one hand on Jack's neck. With the other, he seized the other end of the metal cylinder, apparently intending to throw it behind him where Arcee and now Ratchet were dispatching the last of the MECH soldiers. His air being cut off, Jack hit Sanchez in the stomach. Sanchez responded by lifting Jack's head and slamming in on the concrete silo floor. Stars exploded in Jack's brain, and he felt the stinging pain of oxygen attacking a bleeding cut on his head. His grip weakened.

Sanchez leaned in, his bruised face making him a hideous, demented being. "For America," he hissed, spittle flying from a gap where Jack had apparently knocked out a tooth.

**Detonation time: Nine seconds**

Jack's eyes narrowed and he lurched forward, bringing himself face-to-face with the crazy general. "For _Earth_," he snarled.

**Detonation time: Six seconds**

With all that remained of strength, Jack tightened his grip on the cylinder…

**Detonation time: Five seconds**

…gathered his legs beneath him…

**Detonation time: Four seconds**

…placed his legs upward so Sanchez's stomach pressed on his feet…

**Detonation time: Three seconds**

…seized the man's collar as the traitor realized what Jack intended to do and started to try to wiggle away…

**Detonation time: Two seconds**

…threw himself backwards and launched his legs up and backwards…

**Detonation time: One second**

…released the bomb and locked eyes with Sanchez as the man went airborne…

**Detonation Time: Zero seconds**

…and collapsed as Sanchez, along with his device, disappeared into the glowing portal.

* * *

><p>High above the earth, Lazerbeak moved forward cautiously as his master ordered him to investigate the mysterious ground-bridge that appeared in low orbit. He'd been recalibrating a satellite for his master's control when the swirling mass of energy had open just meters away.<p>

Flying forward, Laserbeak readied his blasters. Already his master's master had sent vehicon troops to his location; all he had to do was maintain his position.

Suddenly a form flew out of the bridge and Laserbeak reacted instinctively, firing a shot at the creature's head.

Laserbeak had only a nanoklick to realize that the being was short, spurted blood instead of energon, and was completely frozen before his senses were engulfed in a mix of blue light and burning pain. It was terrible, far worse than any of Megatron's blows and the minicon wished only for it to end.

And then mercifully, it did.

* * *

><p><strong>Don't go away, people! This story isn't over yet.<strong>

**A few notes:**

**Jack- yes, he is awesome, but people, feel free to tell me if I'm overplaying his abilities too much. I tried to, once again, make a Jack scene where Jack has a reasonable chance. Tell me whether it's too outlandish.**

**Sanchez and Laserbeak- I'm basing Sanchez's and Laserbeak's deaths off of four assumptions: One, that the human body would freeze instantaneously in space. Two, that since in Marvel, adamantum is a space rock, it would not be effected by pressure. Three, that the magnetic field would not be affected by being in space. And four, that energon is not affected by space, since the bot's energon is not affected when they battle in space. **


	19. Ending part 1

Jack awoke to the sound of a female cheer. "He's waking up!" The air was forced out of his lungs, as a fleshy cannonball connected with his midsection, and he yelped as his ribs creaked painfully.

"Miko, off!" Arcee's tone was similar to that of a dog owner's. "You're going to hurt him more!"

"Jackie can handle it!" Miko protested. "He totally kicked psycho general's butt, didn't he?"

Arcee's optics burned, and the saying _if looks could kill _flashed through the teen's minds.

Luckily, Ratchet intervened before Miko lost her arms (or her tongue). "Perhaps Jackson "kicked the general's butt", but he may end up "kicking the bucket" if I have missed anything important."

It seemed that Miko would protest, but another glance at Arcee told her to for once follow Ratchet's advice. Pouting, she released Jack. "Fine. Where's Bulk?"

"Right here," said the deep voiced titan. Miko squealed in joy as her savior came into view.

"Bulk! Did you finish trashing MECH?"

"Yup." Bulkhead smashed his fists together. "We took all their tech and weapons and scrap till the place was emptier than a consumed energon cube. Fowler's guys are taking care of it now. "

"How is Fowler anyway?" Arcee inquired while taking the opportunity to slip around Ratchet's bulky frame to her partner's side. Ratchet shot her a dirty look but said nothing.

"He is fine," the medic grunted. "He passed out from pain and blood loss, but he regained conscience a few hours ago apparently. The doctors are already looking him over to begin the measurement for his new hand."

Jack, who had been eagerly drinking a cool glass of water thoughtfully provided by Arcee, spat part of it out. "Wait, _new_ hand? He lost a hand?"

"Indeed," Ratchet confirmed firmly, yet gently taking the glass from the teen and pushing him back onto the hospital bed. "It was cut off when he and June encountered an elite MECH soldier."

Jack swallowed. "My mom?" he managed weakly.

"She's fine," said Miko dismissively. "She's really upset though. Think it was because she had to run over the jerk before Fowler bit the dust." She winked suggestively at Jack. "Or maybe it's because her _beloved _almost missed the chance to spend more time with his potential son-in-law."

Jack and Arcee were left speechless; Ratchet, unsurprisingly, was not. "That's enough, already. Bulkhead, take her away already."

Bulkhead opened his servo. "Come on Miko," he chuckled. "I need to go stretch out my joints. Their still stiff from those bindings."

"Dune bashing?" Miko implored her eyes wide with excitement.

"Wouldn't dream of anything else."

With a squeal of excitement, Miko leapt onto the ex-Wreaker's servo and took her place on his armored shoulder. "See you later Jack, Doc-bot." It did not go unnoticed by Arcee that Miko had not said anything to her. Mentally she shrugged, filing the observation away for a later time. Turning back to her partner, she watched as Ratchet continued to answer Jack's questions.

"How long have I been out?"

"A little over a day. It's just as well. Your biometric readings indicate that you were far overdue for rest, even without you injuries."

"What are they going to replace Fowler's hand with?"

"Oh, they will not be replacing his hand." Ratchet began to unwind the bandages around Jack's waist. "I will."

Jack jerked in surprise, and then hissed in pain. "What? Why?"

Ratchet was silent for a minute. "Your mother has taught me much about this world that I would not have thought possibly interesting before. Your medicine, your bodies. It is far more fascinating than I initially believed" He looked Jack in the eye. "And she is a nurse, a helper of people, a preserver of life. It is a role that I too vowed to uphold. And in almost every profession, "birds of a feather stick together" as you humans say. "

He turned away. "Fowler was injured defending a friend. This is the least I can do for him."

Once again, Arcee and Jack were left speechless. As far as either of them could remember, it was the longest speech Ratchet had given without a distraction or yelling bloody murder at said distraction. It was an almost disturbing change.

Jack resumed his interrogation. "What about MECH?"

"Silas has been captured. Some of his followers escaped, but their bound to be captured soon. Silas actually made it easier for us. He secretly put trackers on all his men. Coupled with the bios of his soldiers, the human army should have them all rounded up within a few days, at most."

"And Silas himself," asked Jack, trying and failing to sound nonchalant.

Ratchet hesitated before saying, "It was decided that Silas would be more secure at base."

Jack's head snapped up, but his eyes were suddenly unreadable.

Ratchet suddenly felt nervous. "It was believed that since MECH has been unable to find the base before then perhaps there will be no one looking to free Silas, since it's unlikely that anyone will want to associate with him again…" he trailed off awkwardly. Fumbling around, he seized the scanner and began running it slowly down the boy's body.

After a moment, Arcee said slowly, "He's locked up, you know. It…it shouldn't be too dangerous to see him, so long as you have an escort."

Jack looked at his robotic partner gratefully. She nodded back. There was no need for words.

* * *

><p>Airachnid snarled as she paced the area around her berth. Her extra legs ached as the few but irritating bullets that had made and maintained contact continued to make themselves known. They were the remaining echoes of the lives she'd taken. Those officers had never stood a chance.<p>

A whimper of pain drew her briefly from her dark brooding. She could not help but smile slightly as her optics rested on the bloody police officer hanging upside down from the ceiling. His long dark hair, free from its former ponytail hung like a shower of crow feathers around his head. His crushed leg had been cruelly pierced by a bar which hung from the rusty chains she had found.

Her smile faded back into a snarl. Her prey had evaded her claws once more, thanks to Arcee. That femme made her digits twitch and the acid well in her throat. Her mind continued to create all types of torturous scenarios to put the Autobot through. That movie series the humans called _Saw_ was very interesting…

Turning to a wall, her sparkbeat slowed slightly as gazed lovingly at her shrine. Jack's face was strong-jawed and powerful, and his blue-grey eyes made him seem so much more than the boy in a fast-food company hat that he wore in the largest picture that adorned the wall. There were several other pictures that showed him going in and out of work, standing at his window, and going to and from school. One of her favorites was Jack without his shirt, his skin shining with sweat as he played "basketball" with his class.

Taking a smaller, close-up picture of Jack's face from the shrine, she walked back to her prisoner, taking up a piece of wire as she went. Carefully, she punctured a hole on either side of the photo and tied the wire on either side, so the picture resembled a mask.

She shoved the mask on her prisoner's face, talking to him all the while. "Do you want to live, human?"

He sobbed and nodded. Airachnid frowned. The real Jack wouldn't be like this. Oh, well.

"Beg for Arcee."

"I-I don't e-even know wh-who that is!"

Airachnid casually broke his other leg. He screamed. "Well perhaps you need your memory jogged, hmm?"

With a choking sob, the man began to speak. "H-help," he begged weakly.

A flash of metal and suddenly the man's hand was gone. He screamed and wailed. "Arcee! Help me! Please! Arcee! Anybody! _HEELLPP_!"

Airachnid settled back contently as the screams washed over her like music. She may have missed her prey. But she was ever the patient hunter.

* * *

><p>Silas shifted painfully. His broken ribs were aching in the cold room. He had a feeling the air conditioning was high in this room on purpose. He was currently strapped down on an old army cot, probably so he could be treated later on when human authorities came to get him. He hadn't been fed, and his stomach growled angrily.<p>

_So much for the human-loving robots_, he thought.

His door opened suddenly, and he craned his neck as much as the bonds would allow, expecting to see a small group of army soldiers ready to cart him away. Instead a smaller figure limped in. Darby.

He chuckled nastily. "Came in to get your revenge before it's too late?"

There was silence before Jack said quietly, "Then I'd be like you."

Silas howled with laughter, then abruptly cut off as his ribs twinged in pain. "Look at me boy. Do you think you could ever end up like me?"

Jack looked him in the eye, and as he did so, echoes seemed to haunt the air around him.

"_No…no. I-I won't tell you. I won't!" And then there agonizing pain. The smell of burning flesh, the feel of bodily oils burning under the terrible heat…_

"Anyone can change."

"But not you," the terrorist sneered. "Face it kid, as much as a soldier you want to be-you're soft. When you have to face your enemy on the battlefield, you're the kind who'll give mercy. YOU. ARE. _WEAK_."

Jack did not argue against Silas's declaration. Instead he gazed upon the man with what almost appeared to be pity.

Turning away, he stopped just short of the door's threshold. "You're wrong. I can change, just as I'm sure you did."

Before Silas could respond, the boy was gone. A moment later the thunder of heavy boots echoed through the hallway, and several green-clad men came through the door.

* * *

><p><strong>Pretty heavy handed, I think. This is part one of the ending. I hope to have the rest up by the end of the week, so I can end this story.<strong>

**Read and Review, Please!**


	20. Ending part 2

"I wish to thank you Mr. Prime, for your service to our country and our planet." The woman on screen was a brunette, strong-jawed and intelligent, yet her eyes shone with genuine gratitude and compassion.

"The Autobots are glad to help, Mrs. President," the Prime said, optics reflecting the presidents image.

"And I would also like to thank your civilian helpers." The President smiled at the humans in question. All the children stood (with the exception of Jack, who was still bed-ridden) straight and tall beside their guardians, who all assumed a soldier's stance. June was over in the medical area beside Ratchet, who was ready to be at her side should assistance be needed.

"Not only did you save the life of the current inter-species liaison," she went on. "But you also stood strong in the face of danger, numerous times if my readings are correct."

"It is regrettable that any person should be injured in this war, may they be Autobot…or human." Her eyes drifted over the bots numerous injuries that the bots sported before drifting over to Jack. "Know that you sacrifices never go unnoticed. No matter how despicable some humans may act." Her brown eyes hardened before softening once more.

"The day this war is over, the Autobots and any other Cybertronian you deem worthy shall not only have the gratitude of America's people, but the equal status given to any other human born within our borders."

Optimus bowed his head slightly. "Your words fuel our determination to end this war, Mrs. President. We would be honored to have the chance to one day walk among you."

"Believe me, Mr. Prime. The honor is all mine. And rest assured, our justice system will make sure that the man who calls himself Silas will never again see the light of day."

The screen went blank and the Autobots relaxed, breaking rank to go spend time with their human charges. Bulkhead and Miko roared out of base, no doubt to do something loud and possibly destructive. Raf and Bumblebee disappeared into the base proper, while Arcee and Jack poured over what appeared to be a map of Jasper. June busied herself in datapads about Cybertronian bodies, while Ratchet worked on several projects at once, including Fowler's new hand.

Overseeing it all, Optimus allowed himself to relax ever so slightly. He had not lied to the president; he ached for the day where he and his troops could be themselves around the populace and their friends.

_No_, he thought turning to a computer to resume another search for energon. _One day we shall walk not along friends, but family._

* * *

><p>Silas awoke to the sound of tearing metal. The confined space he was in lurched violently.<p>

He appeared to be in a helicopter, judging by the sound of blades slicing through the air overhead. Except now the strong thundering was louder than ever. Either the door was open or…

"What's going on?" One of his guards shouted to the cockpit. He was met with the body of his comrade crashing through the space separating the cockpit from the main body. The other three soldiers jumped up and drew their weapons. Or at least tried to. An enormous black blur erupted from the cockpit, and a second later, two men crumbled to the helicopter floor. One landed on his stomach, but his face continued to face completely around, his glazed eyes boring a hole into the roof. The other fell to the floor with no head at all.

The third soldier was seized by the scuff of his uniform as main door was forced open by what appeared to be a suit-wearing giant. Silas caught glimpse of what appeared to be a small plane diving by before the last soldier was forced after it.

The suited man half-turned and tore the bonds that kept Silas captive to shreds. Before he could protest, the gorilla of a man grabbed Silas by the neck and launched the both of them out of the helicopter. With no parachute.

The powerful pressure on his neck prevented the former MECH leader from yelling (he would never admit to screaming). The sky stretched and twisted like a melting crayon, and the cold stinging wind burned his eyes and forced him to close them. His captor was spread out in the standard skydiving X, but he still held Silas's neck in a vise-like grip, forcing the prisoner's back in an uncomfortable angle that made his broken ribs scream in pain.

From Silas's view, he could see the plane from several seconds ago wheeling around and rushing up toward them. Then it was passing them and Silas and his companion's descent with a painful jerk. The air began whistling in the terrorist's ears even more as they began to rise at a rapid rate. It was beyond him how the giant could even keep his hold, as he could now see that the suit had one enormous hand grasping a rail by the small plane's cockpit.

A door must have opened, or maybe the giant had opened it himself. Either way, Silas suddenly found himself out of the roaring wind and freezing air and in a warm and luxurious cabin.

"Mr. Silas." Still trying to get his bearings after so many shifts in environment, Silas almost missed the man's greetings. He was tall and muscular, with dark blue eyes and brown hair. His teeth gleamed, and he held a thin glass of champagne in one hand. His voice was calm, despite the need to make himself heard over the rushing wind in the still open plane door.

With his right hand, the man snapped his fingers. "Harrison, the door please." The giant, who had somehow moved his bulk from Silas's side around the relatively small cabin to stand at his master's side, moved once more to the plane door. He reached out and slammed it shut. To Silas's ears, it sounded as if someone had slammed the door shut on his very soul. Nevertheless, he retained his military discipline and struggled to his feet, ignoring the agony in his side.

"Who are you?"

The man eyes twinkled, but not in a good way. "I believe you might have met me before, more than once. I did help fund your pursuits after all."

Silas's eyes widened. "You're Corkscrew?" he blurted out, before composing himself. This shouldn't have surprised him. A lot of rich people indulged in odd practices. He was just surprised that he would be meeting one of his funders in the flesh. Every other time, it had been via computers, with a voice-changer and no visual connection. The feeling of dread returned to him.

"Ah, yes. Fitting name, isn't it? Funny I believe, since I was funding you while you still stole from me."

"Kessler," Silas breathed. He knew who this man was now, nearly everyone did. The man was one of the richest in the world. Known for his famous acting, Kessler had created an inventing company, and now was practically on top of the world. It was rumored that Kessler was now serving numerous military forces around the world, despite being based in the U.S. It was enormous controversial issue.

It had really been an ingenious idea: siphon off small amounts of money from different companies into numerous foreign accounts before creating temporary and fake U.S. accounts and wiring the money back in the country. Kessler had been one of many unwilling and supposedly unknowing donors. It appeared that MECH had been wrong about the unknowing part.

Kessler smiled winningly. "Please, Mr. Bishop. Sit down and have a drink. You must be exhausted after your journey."

Though his face remained impassive, his body broke out in a sweat. How the devil did this pampered rich-boy know who he was? Struggling to remain calm, he intoned "I'd rather not."

Kessler's smile widened, but it's humor did not reach his eyes. "No, Mr. Bishop. Sit down. I insist."

Before Silas could say a word, Harrison moved once again before the former soldier could follow him with his eyes. The world flipped upward and Silas was all but thrown into a comfortable armchair.

"Now was that so hard? Thank you, Harrison."

The giant responded by taking his spot beside his employer silently.

"Now down to business." Kessler finished his drink and poured himself another. "Champagne?"

"No, thank you." Silas responded stiffly. "I'd rather like to get down to business, as you said."

Kessler laughed. "Right down to business. That's what I liked about you."

Silas's eyes narrowed. "_Liked_?"

Kessler smirked. "Liked. You see, military type don't seem to ever follow orders. Such as when I ordered you not to continue to pursue this little Cybertronian search of yours."

"I'm afraid the connection was rather disrupted that day." Silas said coolly. Yet his eyes flickered from Harrison to the door, and back to Kessler.

"But it was not bad enough for you to connect into the Westmore executive account and take over a hundred thousand from their manager's account. Good job by the way. Westmore CEO was a rival in high school.

"Luckily, your systems encryptions aren't as powerful as you'd like to believe. Thank you so much for making it wireless. It truly helped my electric bill. But I'm rambling now. The point is that I must personally thank you for bringing a person of interest to my attention. I feel that he will be integral to my plans."

"Who?" Silas demanded. Kessler ignored him.

"Of course, he will be replacing you. But you should be proud. Under my guidance he will help me change the world. That's what you wanted isn't it?"

"_I_ will be changing the word by being in command of it." Silas snarled. He was starting to lose his cool now. His dark eyes were darting around the plane cabin like a Ping-Pong ball.

Kessler looked at him in mock pity as he drained his glass. "You service was a welcome amusement, Mr. Bishop. But all good things eventually end, and I feel like moving on to another game."

Silas seized the champagne bottle and smashed it against the cabin wall, spraying liquor all over the cabin, and creating a crude weapon. "You want to get rid of me?" he yelled. "Fight me like a man!"

Kessler looked at him bemused. Shrugging his shoulders he carefully placed his empty glass on a tray, which was immediately taken away by Harrison. "Harrison, ask the pilot about our ETA."

The giant bowed in the cramped space and disappeared into the large door behind him that led to the cockpit. Kessler's eyes followed him, and then Silas struck.

The sharp glass tore Kessler's neck on the side. Blood spurted out and mixed with the champagne on the white carpet. Silas seized the bleeding man's head and smashed it into the wooden table-once, twice three times, then released him. Breathing heavily, Silas did not allow himself time to rest. He began to cast his eyes around for a parachute. He dropped down and searched under the table and chair for the device, then snarled as his search proved fruitless.

He started to scramble to his feet, but froze, paralyzed by an unbelievable sight.

His eyes slowly traveled from the bloodstained shoes, up the darkened pants wet with blood, over the ripped shirt that had been torn in the fight, and stopped at Kessler's bored and obviously alive face.

"Are you done yet?"

Silas's throat convulsed but no sound came from his raw throat.

Kessler gave a care free shrug and a boyish grin. "I believe it's my turn then."

The air itself seemed to slam into Silas's chest and he was suddenly off the floor and against a wall. Before he could slide down, a powerful hand kept him pinned against the padded cabin siding.

Kessler seized him by the neck and with fluid twist, lifted the terrorist up in the air and slammed him on the table. His strength was so great, the table shattered and the cabin shook with the force of Silas's body hitting the floor.

Kessler chuckled and with a twitch of his hand, sent Silas hurtling towards the ceiling. With a nasty crunch, Silas hit the ceiling and blood spurted out of his nose. He fell once more to the floor and lay still, gasping through the blood on his face.

Silas struggled to move, but the pain in his ribs was too great, and he almost passed out. Kessler's face swam in and out of view. "You're-you're not human." He managed to croak out.

"No." Kessler hooked his index finger on Silas's shirt, and slowly, effortlessly, lifted the convict of the floor again. Blue eyes met dark bloodshot ones. "I am a member of humanities next stage. Humanity will soon be wiped out, unfortunately. And I intend to make sure their extermination is complete."

"Good bye, Mr. Bishop. Your life will oil the gears of a new war. But it will not be in your species favor."

Kessler raised his left hand so that it was level with Silas's forehead. A serrated blade ripped out of his hand, tearing the flesh between the knuckles of the middle and ring finger. It tore through Silas's skull, and emerged out the back. Silas's eyes rolled back, and he released a single choking cry before his jaw went slack. Kessler wiggled the blade a bit before slowly pulling it out, releasing the grating, cracking sound and feel of the skull against his blade, before releasing the dead man's body. The blade disappeared into his body once.

"Harrison", he called mildly.

The silent bodyguard appeared by his side instantaneously.

Kessler gestured to Silas's body. "Take out the trash. And call Eliza. Have her inform the servants that I expect a new clean suit out and ready."

Harrison nodded, and bent down to scoop up the corpse. Kessler, already bored, picked up a remote from the seat of his chair and settled down, propping his feet up. The cabin rocked as Harrison opened the door, but Kessler gave no mind. He switched on a television screen that had miraculously survived the fight. He pressed a button, and the screen came to life in the form of numerous boxes, all repeating scenes of his new interest in action. He paused the footage of one battle and zoomed in.

"Jackson Darby." He rolled the name in his mouth. It sounded…heroic. Noble. And with enough effort, fear-worthy.

"You outsmarted Silas, boy," he said to no one in particular. "But soon, we'll both see exactly how smart you are.

"After all, I need an apprentice."

* * *

><p><strong>And we are DONE! Probably my longest chapter yet. I'd like to thank all who spent time reading this story, and all who supported me through the good, the okay, and the downright cringe-worthy. Not sure when I'll get the sequel up, but rest assured, I'm not going to abandon you for a month or something.<strong>

**Please review. I already have a plot set for the sequel, but I want to hear others ideas.**


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